Great Northern the A1 Pacific
by TruBluTom
Summary: In our time, 1470 Great Northern, the pioneer locomotive of Gresley's A1 class, was left for scrap after a rebuild by Edward Thompson. But what if Great Northern had a new lease of life? On the last remaining railway that used steam? Along with his long lost brother and all his friends on the North-Western Railway of Sodor. This is his story and many others.
1. Chapter 1

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 1

The Last Ride

 **Eastern Region of British Railways, Doncaster, 1962**

Forty. That's how old he was now. Forty years old. Forty years of experience as steam locomotive first of The Great Northern Railway, then The London, North-Eastern Railway and finally, British Railways. In his past lives, he was numbered 1470 and 4470, but now, he was numbered 60113 of British Railways and was a shell of his former self.

Gone were the days of the beautiful apple green liveries of the GNR and LNER, no longer did he only work as a top link express engine. Once he had a single chimney and a regular round dome atop of his boiler, now he was fitted with a double Kylchap chimney, a banjo dome, ugly smoke deflectors, wore Walschaerts valve gears instead of his preferred Gresley valve gear. In his past lives, he stood out amongst engines as the kind to look up to and admire. Now he just stood out amongst them and towered over them like some ghastly, deformed monster.

He was, as he was named in the year 1922 by the great Sir Nigel Gresley, Great Northern. The first pacific locomotive of Gresley's A1s. The pioneer of his class. A title in such a way had set his fate in stone. In 1945, he once again become a pioneer. Pioneer and soul member of the Thompson A1/1 Class. And Great Northern hated it. When he had refused at first, Thompson threatened to have Flying Scotsman rebuilt into his design, so, Great Northern did the right and honourable thing as an older brother by sacrificing himself to be rebuilt so Flying Scotsman would remain unsullied.

 _I haven't got long now,_ Great Northern thought as he looked down to his buffers and sighed.

Everything about him just felt wrong now. He hated Thompson with every fibre of his being and cried out in joy when he heard news of his death in the mid 1950's. Then again, not many of the ex-LNER engines liked the second CME and would much preferred Arthur Peppercorn to have been promoted in 1941 rather than in 1946.

If that had happened, then perhaps the young Peppercorn Pacifics would have had a few years as part of the LNER with the old numbering before Nationalisation came about. But that was another life, as Great Northern had come to accept as he had also come to accept his own fate in this cruel, cruel world.

"Great Northern."

The A1/1 look to his left, looking past his smoke deflectors to see a black N2 tank engine back down into the berth next to him.

"Good afternoon, Jade,"

Jade was numbered 69523 by British Railways, but Great Northern remembered her by her past numbers as GNR 1744 and LNER 4744. Even though she was a year older than he was and she was a tank engine while he was a tender engine, the two of them always got on marvellously together. Cousins, yet the best of friends. And now they had grown old together, as had the rest of their family and friends. At least, Great Northern thought, that she had turned out better than he did.

"How are you?" Jade asked with a soft infliction in her voice.

"Old. Tired," Great Northern sighed again. "I haven't got long now. I just know it."

"Don't say that," Jade replied, giving the big engine a stare like an older sister would to a little brother. "I now these past two decades have been rough on you, but you're still beloved by those of us who remember the old days. Even the young Peppercorns Pacifics admire you and you are adored by railway enthusiasts young and old. Weren't you telling a young cleaner the other day about our time on the GNR?"

"Aye, I was," Great Northern replied. "Those were the days, weren't they? We were both young and green. I was pulling top link express in my old form."

"And I was shunting in the yards, piloting here at Doncaster or pulling stopping trains along Wheatley Park Branchline."

"Don't you do most of that now anyway?"

"Aye, but I've heard rumours about branchlines being closed down now thanks to Dr. Beeching. I really hope Wheatley Park survives."

"Survives," Great Northern scoffed. "It'll be a miracle if any one of our classmates live it through. The diesels are taking over now. Steam is ending."

"Yes, and steam has had a good long run for nearly 150 years. We should take pride in that."

"I do. Believe me, Jade, I do. But... sometimes I feel as though I've lost the will to puff on. I'm not the engine who I was anymore. The railways of Britain certainly aren't what they were. They're not proper railways anymore."

"No, you're wrong. There is hope. Steam will live on."

Great Northern sighed and rolled his eyes again. "What are you blathering on about? The End of Steam is naught but a few years away at least. Some more than others." _Like me._

"No. I'm talking about an island off the north-west coast. It's called Sodor. It's home to The North-Western Railway. You know, the railway Gordon was sold to when he was sent away in '23. You remember those books a reverend published about them and those engines, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember," Great Northern said he remembered the time a boy sat on his bufferbeam after cleaning him down and read to him The Three Railway Engines book, starring Edward, Henry and his own older brother, Gordon. Gordon the Gresley A0. "I still can't believe he got stuck on that hill. He didn't sound like he was even trying."

"I bet it's still called Gordon's Hill to this day!" Jade snickered as Great Northern also began to chuckle. "Still, I hope Gordon is happy where he is on Sodor."

"They say he always runs an express called The Wild Nor' Wester. I wish I had my own express to pull just for me. Gordon is very lucky. As are any of the engines who live on the NWR."

"Indeed. But we've been lucky in many ways too. Remember the time at Grantham when I taught you how to be station pilot in the mid-50s?"

"I told you to never speak about that!" Great Northern growled. "It was humiliating!"

"Maybe, but didn't you get a certain appreciation for all the hard work we tank engines do to keep your trains running to time each morning?"

"Yes, it did..." Great Northern said with a reluctant groan. "But I certainly don't want to play shunter ever again. I barely have enough dignity left as it is."

"You have plenty of dignity. You're a shining example to all."

"An example of puffing scrap iron, you mean," Great Northern hissed. "Just admit it, Jade. You know as well as I do that I'm a shell of an engine that I once was and that I'm a monstrosity!"

Jade looked very upset at this. "Stop speaking like that about yourself! You're not some monster, you're an inspiration!"

"In a past life!"

"Who cares about some past life?! All that matters, is here and now! And you never know what the future may hold for you. For any of us!"

"Pah!" Great Northern snorted. "If even Flying Scotsman is in danger of being scrapped, then what hope is there for rest of us, Jade?! For you, me, our siblings and all of cousins and friends?! Tell me!"

Jade faltered, unable to find an answer. "I don't know!" she shouted as tears began to well in her eyes. "I don't know... But there's always hope. There has to be hope."

"And if there isn't?!"

"Then we face the end together! All of us! But you talk as if you've given up already, Great Northern!"

"Well, maybe I have! All of my original parts were stripped of me and who would want some monster and shell in preservation. Even if they were to try and rebuild me in my old form it would take fortune!"

"Great Northern..."

"No. No! Don't you speak to me like that! You don't know what I've gone through the past twenty years, Jade! And the most you've gone through is a few repairs and livery changes! And that's it!"

After Great Northern's rant, the sheds fell deadly silent. Jade was close to crying and Great Northern was royally cheesed off. A young Peppercorn Pacific named W.P. Allen had been woken up and now felt a little scared around the former Gresley A1. For a little while, no one said anything. All until Great Northern saw his driver approach him.

"Albert."

"Great Northern."

"What's the news?"

"Not good I'm afraid. Your next express train to King's Cross will be your last. I'm sorry, old boy. We've tried everything, but it's all for nought. British Railways won't listen."

"No, it's okay. You did everything you could. All of you. I've been expecting this day for many years now."

"Aye, but let's make the most of it, shall we? Let's make you go out in blaze of glory, eh?"

"Well... I don't suppose why not."

Once his fire was ready and his steam pressure was up, Great Northern slowly trundled out of the shed and the yard before making his way towards the station. Ready for his last run before he would be withdrawn and later would be scrapped. Once he got turned around, Great Northern backed down into Platform 1 of station with 10 blood and cream BR coaches, ready to depart for London. On the platform, next to him was 60025 Falcon who had stopped at Doncaster with the down Flying Scotsman.

"I hear this is your last run, Great Northern," Falcon said as he smiled at the A1/1. "Make sure you give them hell."

Great Northern smiled back at his A4 cousin, remembering the time when the latter was just a young engine as he looked splendid in his royal garter blue livery, as did many of his fellow A4s. "That I will. And I'm going out in a blaze of glory, with all the dignity I have left."

"Gresley would be proud of you. I just know it."

"Thank you, Falcon. I'm going to miss you at the sheds once I'm gone."

"As will I, cousin. As will I."

No more needed to be said as Great Northern heard the porters close the doors of the coaches while the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. Great Northern blew his own whistle loud and hard as he pushed forwards and heaved the heavy coaches behind him. This was his last run, yes. But it would be his best, the former Gresley A1 would make sure of it.

Running express trains had become second nature to the engine. He was able to keep to time and speed while also making sure to be gentle with his coaches and then in turn be gentle with the passengers. In no time at all he thundered down The East Coast Mainline, heading for King's Cross in London. At the stations, he was not stopping at, he shot through them as nearby engines whistled to him, young or old.

He also saw many engines from pre-grouping companies, the LNER and the new BR designs pass him by. Whether it be expresses like him, local stopping trains, freights or just engines running light engine, they all took the time to say hello or thank you to him as they passed. And Great Northern would always reply in kind.

Stop after stop he went along the Mainline, but he knew that with every stop, he was closer and closer to the end. In the end, Great Northern had kept his promise and made his last run a great one as he pulled into one of the terminal platforms of King's Cross. People on the platforms waved and cheered for him and his crew as passengers disembarked, thanking his crew and him for the lovely ride.

Great Northern knew that this may be the end but seeing all those passengers so happy was more than worth it. At least he would have that to always cherish and hold dear. It was as the crowds dispersed did the A1/1 notice two very familiar engines next to him.

The first with The Yorkshire Pullman was 60103 Flying Scotsman in BR Brunswick Green. Next to him was none other than their famous cousin 60022 Mallard, also in BR Brunswick Green, the fastest steam locomotive in the world. Great Northern smiled to his brother and cousin, if any of Gresley's engines could make it to preservation, it would certainly be those two. He might be put up for scrap, but they would live on and continue the legacy of all Gresley engines for future years to come.

"Well done, brother," Flying Scotsman spoke finally. "You were marvellous."

"Indeed," agreed Mallard. "You were amazing, cousin. You certainly made the best of your last run."

Great Northern smiled. "Thank you. Thank you both."

From there, Great Northern waited patiently as a J50 tank engine took the coaches away to be shunting in the yards of King's Cross, as was the job required to do as Station Pilot. Great Northern then bid farewell to his brother and cousin before backing his way into the yard to get turned around a turntable for his journey back to Doncaster. Great Northern took a deep breath as his driver fitted the light engine head-code on his bufferbeam before buffering up to a brakevan as they made their long journey back to Doncaster

 **January, Doncaster Works, 1963**

It had been two months since he was withdrawn, and this was where he stood now. In a siding in the yards of the place where he was built. And now, ironically, this was the place where he was going to die and be turned into scrap. It was a bitter irony to be sure, but at least he would die in a familiar place like home, rather than abroad like Barry's Scrapyard in Wales.

Of course, Great Northern wasn't alone. His own siblings and cousins had been withdrawn too. From A3s to A4s, N2s, V2s, V3s, J39s, J94's, B12s, 7Fs and even Claud Hamiltons, some of which had either already been scrapped or had been there for years now. As for Great Northern himself, he was put in a siding of his own, away from the other engines who remained deadly silent. Awaiting their fate.

It didn't help when rude diesels would pass by making unsavoury remarks about them being out of date. The poor fools, if this fate could happen to steam engines, did they not know this fate would also await them in the end too? But it didn't matter, such words were wasted on engines like them, they would learn when it would be all too late.

 _I've lived a long life._ Great Northern thought, closing his eyes for a moment. _I have seen and experienced many things in my life, but it is time for me to rest. To rest in peace._

Great Northern wasn't so sure how much time had passed when he next woke up. He hadn't woken up by himself. Rather, he woken up by the crunching of ballast under footsteps. Footsteps which seemed to be approaching him as the crunching of the ballast became louder and louder. Great Northern opened his eyes and looked down to see the Doncaster Works manager and a Stout Gentleman wearing a top hat in front of him.

"Here he is, Sir Charles, 60113, Great Northern," said the manager. "He was withdrawn late last year in November. His last run was truly a sight to be behold."

"I wish I was there to see, but I was at The Bluebell Railway after Stepney visited my railway," The Stout Gentleman replied.

"Your railway, sir?" Great Northern replied as he raised an eyebrow.

"Why yes, my railway. A pleasure to finally meet you, Great Northern. I am Sir Charles Topham Hatt. Owner and controller of The North-Western Railway on Sodor. You may have heard that I have been referred to as The Fat Controller."

Great Northern's eyes lit up. "The NWR?! Then that means... Sir, does my brother Gordon still work on your railway?"

"Of course!" The Fat Controller smiled. "He's my best express engine on the whole island. However, am I in need of an engine who can pull expresses and regular passenger trains alike on my Mainline."

Instinctively, Great Northern looked over other sidings. "I'm sure you'll find plenty of engines who would fit that kind of description, sir. A V2 perhaps? A Claud Hamilton? Or a B12? Oh, you should most definitely take a Peppercorn A1, sir. They're young but they certainly do the job and they deserve the chance to-"

"You misunderstand me, Great Northern," The Fat Controller interrupted. "I have already made my purchase and I'm standing in front of the engine who I have bought."

It took a moment for Great Northern to realise what The Stout Gentleman had said. "Sir, you can't mean... You actually... bought me?!"

"Indeed, I did."

"But what why?! I'm not a Gresley A1 anymore. The younger engines deserve more of a chance than me and-"

"I'm doing this because of the demands of the passengers on Sodor. It is clear that they need an engine with experience. One who can handle expresses and local trains as easily as the other. But I also have sentimental reasons for choosing you, Great Northern. It is for Gordon too."

"G... Gordon?" Great Northern murmured, thinking about his older brother.

"Yes. It is clear to me that British Railways is not what it once was and is brutally scrapping its engines. That never happens on my railway and never will. I think it will do Gordon well to see you again, Great Northern. As it will also do you good to have you restored in your old GNR form after your major overhaul at Crovan's Gate Steamworks."

Great Northern was truly blown away. "Sir, you'd... you'd rebuild me into my first A1 form? The same form I had in my old GNR livery?!"

"Yes, I would. The manager of Doncaster Works had kindly donated the remaining parts from your old form before Thompson rebuilt you. As for the rest, we will have to make from scratch or buy anew. It may take some time, but I know that it'll be worth every penny. That, and you shall be able to see Gordon again too."

"Sir, I..." Great Northern muttered, truly at a loss for words. "I don't know what to say."

"There's no need for you to say anything. I'm having my No. 3 come by soon after he's been polished and oiled down for the trip back north-west. He'll be taking a goods train with your old parts along with you on a well-wagon. I hope you don't mind. It may not be quite so... dignified for your standards, as Gordon might say."

"N-No, sir! I don't mind, not at all!"

The Fat Controller smiled. "Very good. I'll see you later on this afternoon, Great Northern." He then turned to the manager of Doncaster Works. "Make sure that Great Northern's splasher nameplates are given to me before we leave, I certainly don't want those important items to be lost, heaven forbid scrapped."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," the manager nodded as he hurried off to finding the nameplates in the works while The Fat Controller looked back to Great Northern, giving him a wink before turning on his heels and walked away.

For a while, Great Northern said nothing and thought nothing. Was this dream? It had to be a dream? This couldn't be real. If he had hands, he'd have been pinching himself mad to make sure that he was asleep. Soon though, he would know in due time. A Class 47 diesel came alongside him with a breakdown train with a well-wagon in front of it.

Unlike most, this diesel was kind and took the time to speak with the other engines about days gone by and would ask other questions of any other topics he so thought of it. He would always stand up to any other diesels that would laugh or jeer as they passed. And while he couldn't be everywhere at once, all the steam engines there appreciated him and his well-meaning intentions.

In no time at all, Great Northern was place onto the well-wagon and was securely strapped down with heavy chains to keep him in place. Then, he was carefully shunted in front of goods train filled with multiple covered trucks. No doubt they were filled with his original parts which The Fat Controller had told him about just before. Suddenly, just as Great Northern's well-wagon was coupled up to the train, he watched a green Stanier tender back down onto the train!

Great Northern was gobsmacked. "Since when does a Stanier Five have a green tender?" he asked the green Black Five that had backed down onto the train. "And why is a Black Five painted bright green? You should have either the lined or unlined black livery."

"Feeling jealous, are we?" sniggered the engine which was numbered No.3 on his cab sides with 'NWR' written in yellow on the sides of his Stanier tender.

Great Northern saw that like other Black Fives he had met, the engine also had the Caprotti valve gear but also had red boiler strands on his boiler. He truly looked very different on when compared to others like him on British Railways.

 _Sir Charles must have a queer taste in liveries, especially for a Black Five like this one._

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Henry," said the 'Green Five'. "As for my livery, well, let's just say that it's the NWR green livery and I love it. I've heard you before, Great Northern. Gordon speaks highly of you."

Great Northern was taken aback. "Really? He does?"

Henry just nodded as Great Northern couldn't help but smile thankfully.

"Of course! He's always going about the rivalries and competitions you had when you pulled trains together to King's Cross from Doncaster or vice-versa. I have to admit though, just being here in this place makes my frames shake."

"It was once the place I was built," Great Northern sighed despondently. "And now, many of us who were built here will die here too."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not like you or The Fat Controller sent us here to be scrapped. Is it true what they say about Sodor?"

"If you mean that steam will always have a place on Sodor, then yes!"

"Heh... You have no idea how relieved I am to here that, Henry."

"I'm glad that you are. And don't you worry, you're going to love it on Sodor."

"I'm sure I will. I can't wait to meet the rest of your friends on the NWR." _And to see Gordon will be like a dream come true._

"Right then!" called a familiar voice as The Fat Controller made his way over to Henry and hopped into his cab along with the driver and fireman. "Right then, lads! Let's be off! It's a long way back north-west!"

"Yes, sir!" Henry agreed as he blew his whistle and slowly started off with the long goods train heading for Sodor.

Once again, Great Northern took a very deep breath and watched as he slowly departed from Doncaster Works. He had been saved after all. Maybe... fate wasn't so cruel after all. While he wanted engines younger then him to be saved, he held out hope that they would be preserved in the end. And some day, maybe he would see them again too. And he couldn't wait to see Gordon again too.

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 2

 **Reunions**

So far, the journey had been long from Doncaster, but now Great Northern was making his way through the Cumbrian countryside as part of Henry's mixed-goods train heading back to Sodor. Even though Great Northern certainly didn't like the idea of not being under his own power to travel, he was able to get some much-needed rest as he travelled along on his well-wagon as part of Henry's train.

As he slept, Great Northern dreamed about the old days when he worked on the Great Northern Railway and the London, Northern Eastern Railway in his youth. He would shoot down The East Coast Mainline in his brilliant apple-green livery with his beautiful LNER teak coaches rattling behind him. He remembered all the jokes, stories and conversations which I had with his siblings, cousins, friends and crews all over the LNER. And indeed, those were the good old days.

"PEEP! PEEEEEEP!"

Great Northern was suddenly woken up by a low-tune Stanier whistle. "I wasn't sleeping, Sir Nigel! Honest!"

"Did I wake you up, Great Northern?" Henry asked, sounding quite apologetic. "Sorry about that. We've just stopped outside of Barrow and I needed to alert the signalman that we need to cross over Vicarstown Bridge."

Great Northern gave a loud yawn. "Barrow you say? As in Barrow-in-Furness?"

"Yes. Barrow is the Mainland terminus station for us engines on the NWR. We've had a running power agreement with Barrow ever since the days of the LMS. We've also got a shed, turntable and servicing facility here. Plus, a joint goods yard for exchanging goods. There's been many a night where I've had to stay overnight after delivering a train or a two."

Great Northern looked around as best as he could. He could only see a little bit of the town behind him, but it looked nice enough. "I see. Well, hopefully I can come by Barrow once I am rebuilt back into my old shape."

"I can't wait to see what you look like when you are rebuilt," Henry said reassuringly. "I'll bet that you'll feel like a new engine. I know I was when I was rebuilt into a Black Five at Crewe."

"I thought as much," Great Northern chuckled, watching as The Vicarstown Bridge finally lowered down for them as Henry slowly made his way across until they were on Sudrian rail.

"Welcome to Sodor, Great Northern!" Henry whistled as he rumbled over the bridge.

"Thank you, Henry..." Great Northern muttered, feeling slightly overcome with his emotions.

However, he didn't get a chance to mull over his feelings when he heard a whistle he hadn't heard in ages, race past them.

"Good morning, Henry!" Emily whistled as she shot past with a stopping train. "Good to have you back home!"

"It's good to be home, Emily!" Henry called back to the female engine. "I was getting a little jittery at Doncaster and its scrapyard!"

"I know what you mean. But we've got nothing to worry about!"

"Aye. That's true! See you back at Tidmouth!"

"Will do!"

And with that, Great Northern watched as Emily disappeared over Vicarstown Bridge and crossed over onto BR rails. Needless to say, the A1 Pacific was speechless. He hadn't seen a Stirling Single since the days of the GNR! Emily. Yes, he knew that name... and he knew that engine! How on Earth did she get here on Sodor?!

"H-Henry?" Great Northern asked, stuttering as he was trying to comprehend when he saw.

"Yes?" the green engine inquired.

"Was that what I think it was?"

"Who? You mean Emily? What about her?"

"What I mean is, she's a Stirling Single."

"Yeah. And..."

"That's not possible! The last Stirling Single is No. 1 whose name is Patrick and he's preserved at The National Railway Museum! And there were no working Stirling Singles on the LNER. How is Emily here on Sodor?"

"Well, she was..." Henry stopped himself, pausing to think for a moment. "I... don't know. We've never asked Emily about how she came here. And she's never bothered to tell us. Being an older engine than all of us, we didn't want to intrude."

"Hmm, I see..." Great Northern said aloud. "I want to talk to Emily as soon as I can."

"Sorry, but you're gonna be at The Steamworks for quite a while. You'll probably not gonna be able to leave Crovan's Gate either."

"Well, no matter. I'm sure I'll speak to her at some point."

"Indeed. But I'm sure Gordon while come to works as fast as I can just to talk to you. You're one of his brothers after all."

 _Brothers…_ Hearing that word, Great Northern couldn't help but think about his Doncaster brothers and sisters. He remembered his last run when he met Flying Scotsman with Mallard at King's Cross. Then he thought back to Gordon and their competitions running between King's Cross and Doncaster or York. "I can't wait to see Gordon again. What's he like nowadays?"

"That's not for me to say," Henry chortled. "I think you should make up your mind when you see him next. He'll be a different engine with you around."

"Let's hope he doesn't become too different. I still want to him to act like the older brother I knew and competed against."

"And I assure you that he is that engine. Now then... next stop, Crovan's Gate!"

Soon enough, the cavalcade arrived at the Steamworks of Crovan's Gate. Henry was coupled from his train as he helped shunt Great Northern, his tender and the two well-wagons they were on, inside of the Steamworks. Great Northern watched as The Fat Controller approached him along with Henry at his side.

"Welcome to Sodor, Great Northern," The Fat Controller told him. "You'll be well looked after here at my Steamworks. We can assure you of that."

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir," Great Northern answered thankfully. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, how long do you think I'll be here for?"

"Hmm... I'm not sure, truth be told. However, that will not stop me from rebuilding you into your former glory. The men here at Crovan's Gate will take good care of you. As will Victor and Kevin."

"Yes, sir. I'm confident that you're correct," Great Northern nodded, thinking that these Victor and Kevin fellows were the manager and vice manager of the Steamworks here at Crovan's Gate.

With that, The Fat Controller departed on board Henry and the rest of the goods train as the two of them made their way down the Mainline. Great Northern envied them as they left. He wanted to explore the rest of Sodor there and then. However, he would have all the time in the world to do so once he was rebuilt. For a time, Great Northern began thinking about what he would see on Sodor and about the engines he would meet on the NWR. Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by a metallic _clang_ and _crash_.

"Oops," Kevin the crane said after dropping a crate of equipment from a wooden palette.

"Kevin! For goodness sake!" said a voice with a heavy Spanish accent. It was none other than Victor the Cuban Engine. "You've really got to stop dropping so many things. The equipment we use is very expensive!"

"S-Sorry, Boss," Kevin murmured. "I didn't mean to drop the crate!"

Victor sighed deeply, "Yes, Kevin, I understand. But you really must curb this clumsiness of yours."

"Yes, Boss. I will, Boss."

"I say, excuse me?" Great Northern called behind him. "What's going on back there?"

Kevin jumped back. "Who is that engine?! He's bigger than Gordon!"

"Easy, Kevin," Victor assured the crane. "If I'm correct, that's the newest engine being rebuilt here in the Steamworks."

"Really? How did he get here?"

"The Fat Controller saved me from British Railways," Great Northern answered. "I arrived here on Henry's return goods train from Doncaster."

"Ah, I thought so," Victor chortled. "You must be 60113 Great Northern. Aren't you?"

"That I am. And you must be the manager of this Steamworks. A pleasure to meet you, I-" Great Northern paused, watching as a little red engine puffed up next to him on what looked to be a track of narrow-gauge rail. "Wait a minute, you're an engine?!"

"Narrow-gauge engine, my friend," Victor corrected with a smile. "Welcome to Sodor Steamworks. Kevin and I will be looking after you along with the workmen here."

"I see," Great Northern replied, nodding. "Tell me, Victor, how long will this rebuild take to complete me?"

"Hmm, a long time I am afraid, my friend," Victor said gravely. "Depending on what of your old parts we have along with the other parts The Fat Controller needs to order or build, I'd say definitely over a year, maybe three at the most. But I assure you, our men here at the Steamworks are the best in the world. I guarantee it."

Great Northern smiled at that. "I'd trade three years of my life to spend the rest as a happy and hard-working engine once more. I can only hope that everything goes well."

Victor chuckled. "Do not worry, my friend. You are in safe hands and buffers here."

"And hooks!" Kevin called out, before he dropped his hook along with a pallet of boxes onto the ground once more. "Uh, maybe not hooks?"

"Kevin!" Victor shouted, rolling his eyes. "Ay-yai-yai. The things I put up with!"

Great Northern smiled warmly. "I can tell he's just a young'un, Victor. Give him time. He'll mellow out, I'm sure of it."

"I hope so, for all of our sakes. Especially my sanity."

Victor and Great Northern then heard Kevin crash into something in the far back as the crane called out, "Oops! My bad!"

Great Northern watched in amusement as Victor puffed backwards to find Kevin and give him a scolding. It reminded him of the times when the younger engines on The Eastern Region would mess up and have the older engines set them straight. Great Northern himself had set a few young engines right himself. Including many of the young A4s during the mid and late 30s.

After that, Great Northern decided to rest and went happily to sleep for a cat nap.

A few hours later, just as it had gone to night time, Great Northern had been woken up by Victor as the narrow-gauge engine told him that he was going to be a receiving a very important visitor soon. Great Northern yawned as he stirred, wondering who this visitor was.

He got his answer.

Great Northern watched as a big, blue tender engine backed down onto the track road next to him. Even in the dark, he could tell that the engine was painted light blue with red stripes and that his shape was familiar. Very familiar. He looked just a like a Gresley A1 Pacific, yet he seemed different thanks to his fowler tender and caprotti valve gear, even his cab seemed a little different from the last time he had seen him too.

Then it hit him.

"Gordon?!" Great Northern spluttered. "Gordon? Is that really you?"

"Indeed, it is, brother," Gordon replied, grinning as he backed down in line with Great Northern. "How are you? I must say, you do look much, _much_ different than the time we saw each other. How on earth did you end up like that?"

"Ugh, long story," Great Northern sighed rolling his eyes at the thought of Edward Thompson. "A terrible rebuild near the end of the war. Besides, you look different too. What's with this new tender and valve gear you've acquired? You look like you're half an LMS engine. Not to mention that new blue livery with red stripes."

"Believe you me, I'd have rather had been rebuilt in a more LNER kind of design, but I work well all the same. I was sent to Crewe by Sir Topham Hatt I after my old valve gear had shattered, destroying most of my splashers in the process. I had an accident on my hill as my old coal rail tender was also damaged beyond repair. So, I was repaired and rebuilt at Crewe with designs from Sir William Stanier with caprotti valve gear and a Fowler tender to boot. If I'm being honest though, I would have much rather had a Gresley non-corridor tender. But as I said, it gets the job done nonetheless. As for my livery, it is NWR blue with red stripes and I rather like it. I feel as though it makes me feel a part of Sodor and this railway."

"I'm glad to hear that you're doing well, Gordon." Great Northern smiled. "I like your new livery too. And I have to admit, being the A0 with your own kind of design, makes you look very singular indeed."

"Singular? Ha!" Gordon laughed. "I'm the very definition of the word. Well, aside from you, of course. Tell me, how did you become a Thompson A1/1?"

"It all started in 1945," Great Northern began, sighing deeply as his mind drifted back to that day. "I was resting in the sheds at King's Cross with Flying Scotsman. We had been discussing the end of World War 2 as we had been repainted in our LNER green. However, we had also been renumbered for creating more room for newly built engines. Needless to say, neither Scotsman or myself liked being numbered 103 or 113. It was then we saw two men approaching us, one of them happened to be Thompson himself."

Gordon watched as Great Northern gritted his teeth and seethed with anger as he spoke the surname of Sir Nigel Gresley's successor of the LNER. "Would you mind telling me what happened next, brother?"

"From what we heard, Thompson had another man telling him to stop whatever he was going to do or say next. Both Scotsman and I glowered when he said that the LNER was a Thompson railway now and that Gresley was a thing of the past."

Gordon gasped in shock. "How rude! How dare Thompson say that about Sir Nigel!"

"Indeed, neither of us were happy. Then he told me that he had a major rebuild in store for me. Saying that I would be a different engine, 'better than any design out there'."

"Pah!" Gordon snorted. "When engines bounce!"

"And that's not all, when I initially refused, Thompson said that his second choice was Scotsman himself. He even told him to head to Doncaster to be ready to be rebuilt into a mixed-traffic outline."

Gordon was outraged. "Thompson threatened Flying Scotsman?! With a mixed-traffic outline design! The nerve and gall of that man! He would dare desecrate such a famous engine? Sir Nigel would be turning in his grave!"

"Which is exactly why I intervened and agreed to Thompson's demand. Needless to say, Scotsman was shocked by what I did for him. But I merely said that, 'Gresley engines look after their own'. But in the end, it was us who had the last laugh."

"Really?" Gordon asked, arching an eyebrow. "How?"

"Because of you, Gordon," Great Northern said, smiling past his smoke deflectors. "Thompson wanted to smear Gresley's name by rebuilding his first A1 Pacific into his own design. But after he was fired as the CME of the railway, I spilt the beans about you being the actual first Gresley Pacific, the A0. I'll never forget how red his face went as he swore and ranted at me for tricking him. Not to mention that the other engines also got a good jeering at him as he left too. It almost made it all worth it in the end. Sticking to the man made me feel very good indeed. Still, I had no idea what kind of hell I was in for the next two decades."

Gordon looked concerned. "What do you mean?"

"For the early part, it was mostly teething troubles. Constant wheelslips, jamming breaks, safety valve bursting, losing steam, etc, etc."

Gordon looked back to Great Northern who himself was looking down at his buffers. "Were there ever any good things with your, rebuild, Great Northern? Anything? Anything at all?"

Great Northern took a moment to think, gazing through all the heartbreak and turmoil during the last two decades, digging through all the muck and dirt as best as he could.

"Actually, yes. Did you ever hear of the LNER's last CME? Arthur Peppercorn?"

"Oh, yes!" Gordon nodded. "I heard he created those new Peppercorn A1 and A2 engines, didn't he?"

"Indeed, he did. You see, Mr. Peppercorn took the original Thompson A1/1 designs and basically improved them for his own designs. And I can assure you Gordon, those young Peppercorn engines are fantastic fellows. Truly our most deserving successors. So, in a way, my rebuild led to those chaps being built before Nationalisation. Unfortunately, I don't know whether or not the class with survive. Poor lads, the eldest are barely 20-years-old."

"I've heard the rumours about The Other Railway," Gordon said solemnly. "Is it true that diesels are now taking over? And that steam engines are being withdrawn in droves?"

"I'm afraid so, brother," Great Northern exhaled deeply. "British Railways doesn't see steam engines as economical anymore. More and more diesels are being replacing steam engines, and while some are rude, not all are bad. Why, I knew some very nice Deltics and Brushes, many of the those young gronk diesels were nice too. They would ask me endless questions about the GNR and LNER and listened when I told them stories of the old days."

"Well, I can't say that we've had much of a good experience with a Class 08 shunter. The last one that came here, lied to me, Henry and James and made us out for fools by treating Duck terribly after we thought he had told trucks jokes about us. I can forgive many things, Great Northern, but being manipulated isn't one of them."

"I agree," Great Northern replied. "Well then, why don't I tell you about a young diesel shunter I knew at Copley Hill. His name was Gronk and..."

From there, the two brothers shared stories together well into the night. Great Northern talking about all of his friends out on the East Coast Mainline and friends on the Mainland while Gordon spoke of his adventures on Sodor and how proud he was of his express, the Wild Nor' Wester. However, when morning came, it was time for Gordon to leave to head to Knapford for the first run with the express. Great Northern was sad to see his brother leave.

"Don't you worry, Great Northern," Gordon assured him once he was steamed up. "I'll make sure to whistle hello as I pass by Crovan's Gate. That'll be quite a sight, won't it?"

Great Northern could almost picture it. "It certainly will be. I can't wait to see you fly down the line, brother. Actually, Gordon, if you could do me one small favour?"

"Certainly. Just name it."

"That Stirling engine you have on this railway, what's her name again?"

"Oh, you mean Emily? Oh, she's a lovely engine. Mostly handles mixed-traffic work like Henry, James and Edward. But she is good company nonetheless. Why do you ask?"

"There's something I would like to ask her myself. You wouldn't mind telling her to meet me here when she can, would you?"

"Of course, brother. I'm sure Emily would be more than happy to speak with you. I'll let her know the next time her see her."

With that, Gordon bid Great Northern goodbye as he blew his whistle as he left the Steamworks. Great Northern watched his brother leave before returning back to sleep, despite the hustle and bustle of the men at work in the building.

Eventually, it was mid-afternoon when Great Northern saw a familiar looking engine back down in the track to his left. The engine was painted dark green while her tender was a GNR coal rail tender which was also painted dark green but had no number unlike Gordon and all the other Sudrian engines he had seen pass the Steamworks by that morning.

"Hello, Great Northern," Emily said in her thick Scottish accent as she stopped alongside him. "Gordon said you wanted to see me?"

"Indeed, I did," Great Northern chuckled warmly. "It's nice to finally meet you, Emily."

Emily giggled softly. "Finally meet me? Don't you remember me, Great Northern? Back in 1922? The last year of the Great Northern Railway?"

Great Northern pondered for a moment. Thinking about the name Emily and how familiar her voice and accent was. He thought for so long and hard back over 40 years that it made his smokebox hurt. Finally, he remembered, gasping as his eyes widened at the engine next to him.

"Emily?! As in, _that_ Emily? The one who taught me how to pull express trains on the East Coast Mainline? But that's impossible the last time I saw you was in 1923 when..."

"Yes, when I and the rest of my class were withdrawn," Emily spoke next. "It's been far too long, Great Northern. I see that you've certainly changed. But maybe not for the better."

"Yes..." Great Northern groaned, wishing that he was back in his old Gresley shape. "I've seen better days. But clearly, you, my dear, haven't aged a bit."

Emily giggled again. "Oh, you. Still quite the charmer, I see."

"What can I say? Some habits die hard."

"I can see that. You know, I hardly recognised you on that well-wagon which Henry was pulling with his goods train from the Mainland the other day. Are you really him from so long ago? 1470, Nigel Gresley's first A1 Pacific? What happened to you?"

"It's not a pretty story, Emily," Great Northern sighed again. "But it is a long one. Do you have the time for me to tell you?"

"I do. I want to hear you story."

"Very well, I'll tell you. So long as you tell me how you came to Sodor after being withdrawn like the other Stirling engines."

Emily beamed. "Deal."

So, from there, Great Northern told Emily everything that he had told Gordon that previous night. His rebuild into a Thompson A1/1, his working life after the departure of Edward Thompson, his time as Grantham station pilot and his last run from Doncaster to King's Cross.

"Well, now that I've told you what's happened to me recently, how did you come to Sodor, Emily?" Great Northern asked curiously.

"Well, it all started in 1923, as you know. I was one of the last Stirling Singles working on the LNER. But not for long. Soon, the company had officially withdrawn me, so I decided to hide from the cutter's torch in a good's shed and had the foreman there look out for me. Years past and I heard that rumours had sprung up about me, a Stirling Single escaping the cutter."

"So, I heard," Great Northern said, remembering said rumour long ago. "But I thought that was just about old Patrick Stirling, No. 1. He's still at the National Railway Museum at York. I never paid much to rumours anyway. I never would have thought you were the hiding engine, Emily."

"But the LNER knew I hadn't been scrapped," Emily replied. "They knew so thanks to their log books. Thankfully, the foreman took away my old tender and sent it to another engine shed so it could be used as a snowplough or ash disposal bunkers. But just in case, he hid me behind some coaches. We had a near-miss with an inspector who was then called away after hearing that my tender was at King's Cross."

"By Jove! I can't believe you went through all of that," Great Northern said sympathetically. "If I had known, I might've been able to have done something."

Emily continued to laugh.

"Oh, that wasn't it though. By the time World War 2 came about, I had other close calls, mostly friendly crews and workers who were able to be kept quiet by the foreman and his wife as they then helped me stay hidden. However, others were inspectors, and it was sheer luck that kept them at bay. Unfortunately, after WW2, the foreman was at retirement age and was getting tired. But he made his replacement vow to look after me and keep me hidden just as before. I was so sad when he left. He hadn't seen him since."

"I know how you feel," Great Northern said, looking down at the ground. "I've seen so many of my friends come and go. I felt as though a piece of me had died each time they had left. I'm sorry, Emily."

"Don't be, Great Northern. It was never your fault." Emily then continued. "I'm glad to say that the new foreman and the workers all kept their promise. However, we were given quite the surprise when a B12 named Stephen found me in the goods shed. When we told him and his crew of my situation, he smiled and told me all about the ghost stories that had been made up about me by the other engines. Over a year, Stephen kept me company and told me all the going's on with BR. I was sad to see him leave when he was reallocated to another shed, up in Leeds, I think."

"Eventually, word spread all over Britain about two Caledonian engines escaping to Sodor, you'll meet them soon enough. They're Donald and Douglas. You'll like them. Anyway, the workmen managed to get in contact with The Fat Controller, Sir Charles Topham Hatt, as he's also known. He came to my shed and spoke with me, saying that he would save me but needed time. A couple of years passed, and I thought he had forgotten more, until the day I was found by a Class 47 diesel and was brought out of the shed. I was frantic and begging for my life, all I until I spied The Fat Controller standing on the tracks close by. He had finally gained enough money to buy me from British Railways and overhaul me at the Steamworks. After that, I've been on the NWR ever since, and I've never looked back."

Great Northern was speechless, at least for a moment. "Emily... I... I don't know what to say. After all you've gone through... I feel as though that what's happened to me was nothing that you've been through. I'm sorry that I've been complaining bitterly to you. I should have behaved better than that."

"No, it's alright, really," Emily told Great Northern, reassuring him as best she could. "I think we've both had our ups and downs in quite different ways. You in service and me out of service. But like I said before, I'm not looking back. I'm only looking forward towards my new life here on Sodor, as should you. I just know you're going to love it here. Unlike the Other Railway, The NWR is a proper railway. You'll see. And I can't wait to see you out on the Mainline again. Neither can Gordon."

"I can't wait either, Emily. I really can't." Great Northern then decided to change the subject onto something lighter. "So, tell me, Emily, what happened when you first came to Sodor? Did anything occur?"

Emily grinned cheekily. "Well, I'll tell you the story of how I got my very own coaches to pull along the Mainline after I had taken two other coaches from a tank engine without permission beforehand. The coaches' names were Annie and Clarabel and..."

Great Northern listened to Emily tell her story of her first day on Sodor. As he listened, he wondered about the island and the NWR in general. He couldn't wait to work on a proper railway again, one that would always have steam in service. It would be a while until he would be ready after his complete rebuild and overhaul, but it would be all worth it in the end. And Great Northern promised that he would repay The Fat Controller for his kindness a hundred times over.

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Great Northern the A1 Pacific Chapter 3

 **The First Day**

Great Northern's rebuild was long and arduous, as had been expected. Victor, Kevin and the workmen worked around the clock to keep to time while also seeing to other engines who needed check-ups or routine maintenance. It was during this time that The Fat Controller had Great Northern hidden away from the other engines who hadn't met him already. He intended for Great Northern to be a surprise for them once he was ready to leave the Steamworks.

Fortunately for Great Northern, it hadn't been all that boring during his time at the Steamworks. In 1964, he met a little purple engine with a titled boiler and a stove-pipe chimney named Culdee. Culdee said that he was a Mountain Engine from the Culdee Fell Railway, a rack railway that ran from Kirk Manchan all the way to the Culdee Fell Summit on the mountain namesake.

After learning that Culdee was from a rack railway, Great Northern remembered hearing about another kind of railway from north-west Wales, The Snowdon Mountain Railway. A shame he never got to Wales to see them. Needless to say, Great Northern certainly enjoyed Culdee's tales about his life on the Culdee Fell. How he would push his coach named Catherine up the rack-rails as his pinion wheels kept him firmly on the tracks without his wheels slipping. He marvelled at Culdee's mention of his automatic brakes and how it stopped him from running backwards down the mountain should anything happen.

However, he gasped as Culdee told him the story of the railway's No. 1. Godred. Apparently, he was named after a long-gone King of Sodor. Something of which may have gone to his smokebox. Culdee said that he rolled down the line from the summit and never kept a good look-out along with his coach. One day, he was coming down the mountain and the next thing he was off the rails and rolled down the mountain.

"No one was hurt," Culdee said to a wide-eyed Great Northern. "His coach stayed on the rails and the guard braked her to a stop. They brought Godred home the next day. 'We've no money to mend you,' said our manager, 'So, you'll got to the back of the shed.' As time when on, poor Godred became smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left."

Great Northern was horrified. "W-What happened? How did he disappear?"

"It's not nice to talk about. Our drivers used him as spare parts to mend us," Culdee answered mournfully.

Great Northern remained respectfully silent that night as Cudlee left the Steamworks on a well-wagon headed for Kirk Manchan. However, he didn't know that Culdee had made up the story of Godred in the first place. Or, maybe he didn't?

Eventually, early 1965 rolled around as Great Northern had finally been put back together in his old A1 boiler which had now been repaired by the workmen after being salvaged from Doncaster. It was during this time that he met engines from The Skarloey Railway. Skarloey, Rheneas, Peter Sam, Sir Handel and Duncan. He was delighted to learn that both Skarloey and Rheneas were turning one-hundred years old that year too. He loved hearing them tell him about their younger years when they first arrived on the railway, cabless.

He could imagine poor Skarloey being covered up with tarpaulin after refusing to pull trucks, the manager calling him a crosspatch until he stopped sulking and would be a better engine. He chuckled at the silliness of the old narrow-gauge coaches. Agnes, Ruth, Lucy, Jemima and Beatrice. But was horrified to hear of those same coaches bumping Skarloey after a mistake made by his crew.

Then Rheneas spoke of the time Skarloey got a new cab and became very conceited, calling the former out of date and a stick-in-the-mud. That was until Skarloey himself was caught in a landslide along with their builder, Mr. Bobby and some workmen. Rheneas admitted that he said that Skarloey could stay in the mud for all he cared, until he learned about Mr. Bobby and his men. After he had been rescued, Skarloey realised that he was the stick-in-the-mud after all. From that day forth, Skarloey and Rheneas had been the best of friends.

Great Northern thoroughly enjoyed all of the stories that Skarloey and Rheneas told him about them and their railways during the last century, as he told them stories about the East Coast Mainline. He also spoke with Peter Sam and Sir Handel, learning that they used to work on The Mid-Sodor Railway, a now defunct narrow-gauge railway located up in the northern region of Sodor. He was surprised to learn that their old names were Stuart and Falcon, but they said they liked their new names much better.

"I'm named after the owner of our railway," Sir Handel boasted. "Sir Handel Brown himself."

"And I'm named after the Third Thin Controller of our railway," Peter Sam added. "Sir Peter Sam. What were you named after, Great Northern?"

"I was named after my very own railway, of course!" Great Northern said proudly. "The Great Northern Railway, one of the major pre-grouping railways of the LNER before The Big Four existed. Needless to say, I worked my hardest to live up my name's expectation."

After speaking with Peter Sam and Sir Handel, Great Northern eventually met Duncan. The yellow Scottish engine complained dreadfully about whatever ailment had caused him to come here in the first. Then he complained other things about the Skarloey Railway in general.

"The ballast on the tracks are old, rough and has weeds growing in 'em," he moaned. "Me buffers ache, those old coaches and brakevan never give me a break. And to top it all off, I've had to deal with one very grumpy passenger who's never happy no matter what I do!"

 _Sounds to me like someone is getting a taste of his own medicine,_ Great Northern thought, chortling under his breath so Duncan couldn't hear.

While Great Northern didn't get the best impression of Duncan first off, he knew exactly how to handle him due to his time on the GNR, LNER and British Railways. He was always there to lend an ear and give advice when any of the younger engines felt like complaining about the day's work or an argument they had had with another engine, most likely one from another region or even a shed-mate.

So, Great Northern listened to Duncan complain and told him similar stories with experiences he had had as to form common ground. Then, once Duncan was comfortable enough, Great Northern gave him some advice, solutions for his grievances and what to do in the future. Duncan greatly appreciated this.

"Thank ye' for listenin' to me, Great Northern," Duncan smiled. "It's nice knowin' that at least one engine cares aboot what I'm sayin'. I tellin' ye', the others are just always blowing me off. Sayin' that I'm complainin' aboot nothin'."

"You're very welcome, Duncan," Great Northern replied humbly. "Just make sure to try and do I what I've just told you to do in the future. It may help, especially talking with The Thin Controller with the state of the railway's tracks. As for the other engines, try to talk to them normally and voice your grievances to them without it sound as though you're complaining. They're far more likely to listen if you speak civilly to them and just tell them what's going on."

Duncan grinned as his crew boarded his cab before steaming him out of the works. "I'll make sure to do that! Thanks, Great Northern! I cannae wait to see you out on the Mainline!"

"Goodbye Duncan!" Great Northern called back as he went back to sleep. _Yes, I certainly can't wait to be back on the Mainline too. Where I belong._

A few more months had passed and Great Northern was finally ready. It had taken two years to have him completely rebuilt and in full working order in his old GNR shape. Now, Great Northern looked exactly as he did over four decades before. He had been refitted with an A1 boiler with a single chimney and dome ontop his boiler.

His frames were a smart colour of brown along with the iconic apple-green with white and black stripes on his boiler bands. He had gained a new GNR coal rail tender replacing his last non-corridor tender. Gone was his uncomfortable Walschaerts valve gear and back was his Gresley valve gear which he had so dearly missed. He practically beamed when he saw his old number, 1470, being painted on either sides of his cab and buffer-beams, along with 'GNR' written on either side of his tender as well.

Once he was ready, Great Northern was ready to cry happy tears as The Fat Controller, the workmen, the Steamworks manager, Victor and Kevin all crowded around him to marvel in their great achievement. Great Northern had never felt so good in over twenty years. He felt as young as the first day he had come out of Doncaster Works.

"I must say," Great Northern spoke to the crowd. "All of you have done quite the Doncaster job of rebuilding me, if not better."

"Heck yeah!" a workman cheered. "That's sticking to British Railways, isn't it?"

"Scrap this engine? Not on their lives!" another hollered as an uproar was imminent.

"Alright, alright, lads!" The Fat Controller boomed, calling the works to silence. "As controller of the North-Western Railway, all I can say is thank you to each and every one of you. You have all played your part in giving Great Northern a new and well-deserved chance in life. And I am sure that all of your hard work will not go to waste." The Fat Controller turned to the aforementioned engine. "Don't you agree, Great Northern?"

"Oh, absolutely, sir!" Great Northern beamed. "I promise I will do my utmost to work hard and make of all you proud. Thank you once again. Thank you!"

"You're very welcome, my friend," Victor beamed. "Now, all that is left is for your nameplates. Kevin? Kevin! Bring Great Northern his plates!"

"Right away, boss!" Kevin then raced around the Steamworks, scooping up Great Northern's nameplates in his hook until he lost control and sent them flying in the air. "Uh-oh!"

"Watch out!" Victor cried as all gathered gasped while ducking their heads.

"I've got 'em!" The Fat Controller called out, somehow managing to leap into the air, catching the nameplates and bringing them into his chest before landing back down on his feet. "Phew! That was a close one."

"Oh, my Gresley. Well done, sir!" Great Northern cheered as he and everyone else present applauded The Fat Controller for his amazing catch.

"Thank you, thank you!" The Fat Controller chuckled, recomposing himself as he then placed Great Northern's nameplates on each of his middle splashers covering his middle driving wheels. "There you are, Great Northern. You look marvellous."

Great Northern blushed. "Thank you, sir. Thank you, everyone!"

After another rousing applause, it was time for the Gresley A1 to leave. The Fat Controller joined his crew in the cab as they built up his steam pressure. Once he was ready to go, the driver opened the regulator as the fireman fed the flames in Great Northern's firebox. Great Northern groaned as his wheels moved for the first times in over two years.

"Ohh! I'm so stiff! Ahh! Ohh!"

However, he soon forgot how stiff he was as soon as he picked up enough steam after grabbing a brakevan and shot down the Mainline light engine, heading straight for the sheds at Tidmouth. Great Northern had never felt so happy in his life as he felt the wind blasting against his smokebox while he thundered down the line. He felt like a young engine again.

Meanwhile, at Tidmouth Sheds, the engines of The Fat Controller's fleet were just being woken up at the break of dawn as their crews were steaming them up. The Mainline engines were in for a surprise however as Thomas, Percy, Toby and Daisy had all come down from Ffarquhar for some reason as they all stood in front of the sheds, half-asleep and yawning terribly.

"What's going on here?" James asked incredulously. "Why are you lot down here and not at Ffarquhar?"

"Search me," Thomas yawned. "Our crews said that we needed to be here at Tidmouth as soon as possible. We all left Ffarquhar at 4:30 in the morning just to get here on time."

"For what exactly?" Edward asked. "Another deputation meeting?"

Percy was adamant "If it is another deputation meeting, there's no way I'm being sent off to speak to The Fat Controller like last time. Let me tell you..."

"Oh, put a scarf in it, Percy!" Henry scoffed. "It's too early in the morning for your whinging."

"I am not whinging!" Percy shot back indignantly. "I'm simply stating a fact!"

"Now, now," Toby cut in, trying to calm down the engines. "There's no need for this kind of behaviour, let alone conflict. Whatever is going on, I'm sure Sir Charles will be here in a moment to tell us what is going on."

"Toby's right," Emily spoke up. "Let's just be patient and wait for The Fat Controller. There's no use boiler aching over hypotheticals and petty arguments." She shot a look over at a sheepish looking Percy and Henry.

"Och aye," Donald agreed. "The lassie's right, she is!"

"Wheesht! Hush, Donnie!" Douglas shushed suddenly. "Do ye hear that?"

"Hmm?" Daisy asked, yawning as well. "Hear what? What are you talking about Douglas?"

"No, I can hear something too," Duck spoke up from his berth. "It sounds like a whistle. A steam engine's whistle."

Gordon, who hadn't spoken during the whole conversation, knew what kind of whistle it was. "T-That's... I know that whistle. That's a Gresley whistle!"

"A Gresley whistle?" asked James. "That's impossible, you're the only Gresley engine here, Gordon and..."

But James was cut off by a large, green Gresley Pacific engine that pulled into the sheds, centring himself in the middle of the turntable. All of the engines gasped, aside from Gordon and Emily, staring at the big green engine that looked so much like their resident A0.

"Brother!" Gordon exclaimed. "Great Northern! It's you! It's really you!"

"And you're back in your old form!" Emily cheered happily. "Oh, you look so much better now!"

"Wait a moment," Edward cut in. "You're Great Northern? As in Gordon's _brother_ , Great Northern?!"

"Indeed, I am, my dear fellow. You must be Edward. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. It's a pleasure to finally meet all of you. I've heard so much about all of you from Gordon and Emily."

"Pardon me," Duck interrupted. "I'd hate to be rude, but... you can't be _the_ Great Northern. He was rebuilt into a Thompson A1/1. I met long ago back in the 1950's at Grantham. You look a lot smaller than he does, and quite different."

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Duck." The engines all looked to see The Fat Controller stepping down from Great Northern's cab as he stood in front of all of his engines.

Duck was taken aback. "Sir? What's going on?"

"What's going on is that I have gathered you all here to welcome our newest member to our fleet of the NWR. I can assure you all that this is Great Northern himself. No. 1470. Formerly 60113 of British Railways. And you are correct, Duck. He was a Thompson design, until I bought him back in 1963 from Doncaster and had him rebuilt into his old Gresley shape at our very own Steamworks. And I must say, the lads have done a very good job."

"They did a marvellous job, sir," Great Northern smile. "Why, I feel just as young and spry as the day I first come out of Doncaster Works. And that was quite some time ago. Isn't that right, Gordon?"

Gordon beamed, proud to have his real brother back, not that Thompson monstrosity he met that night at the Steamworks. Now, Great Northern looked and oozed the same confidence Gordon had known him for back on the GNR and LNER. Gordon couldn't wait to show his little brother all around Sodor.

"Indeed, little brother," Gordon grinned. "You look brilliant. So, does this mean you'll be joining me in pulling the Express?"

Great Northern was unsure. "I not sure. What am I being assigned to again, sir?" he asked The Fat Controller.

"Great Northern, I need you to run both express and stopping passenger services here on my railway," The Fat Controller told him. "There's been an influx in the average of our passengers lately, which is exactly why I saved you in the first place. And it certainly doesn't hurt to have another Pacific on the NWR. In saying that, I want you and Gordon to double-head the first up-journey with the Wild Nor' Wester to Barrow. I want to make sure that you get an idea of all the stations and landmarks across Sodor's Mainline." He turned to Gordon. "Gordon, I trust that you will tell Great Northern whatever it is he needs to learn here on the NWR?"

Gordon was thrilled. "Oh, yes, sir! Absolutely, sir!"

"There's a good engine. Now then," He turned back to the other engines. "I want to you all to make Great Northern feel welcome here on our railway and treat him as one of our own. After that, you will return to your usual jobs for the day."

The North-Western engines all cheered, blew their whistles as Daisy hooted her horn in a grand welcoming of Great Northern to the North-Western Railway on the Island of Sodor. Great Northern was deeply touched. In no time at all, the engines all went to work. Great Northern made his way to the Knapford station and sat at Platform 2, watching as Duck moved Gordon's green bogie express coaches into place at Platform 1.

Duck came to a stop just ahead of the platform, wheeshing steam softly as he grinned. "All ship-shape and Swindon fashion," he said, pleased with his work.

Great Northern chuckled in amusement. "I haven't heard that old saying in many years. The last time I heard that was when I was talking with an old friend of mine from The Western Region."

"You had an old friend from the Great Western?" Duck asked, looking quite interested. "Who was it?"

"Why, none other than 4079, of course. Pendennis Castle himself."

Duck was amazed. "You met Pendennis Castle? And you became friends?! But how?"

"It was the locomotive exchange of 1925," Great Northern explained, recalling the tale as he knew that he and Duck had some time to spare. "The GWR sent Pendennis to the LNER and we were to send my brother, 4475 Flying Fox to the GWR. During his time with us, Pendennis pulled The Bradford Express and did a bang-up job of it too. I still remember the times he would pass me by saying, 'All ship-shape and Swindon fashion!'. And despite the animosity between two rival companies, we became fast friends thanks to our many chats and stories."

Duck was delighted. "Now I remember about those exchange trials. But I don't remember an LNER engine with the number 4475 coming west at all. I could have sworn that the engine had another number. But I don't remember what."

"Oh, silly me!" Great Northern laughed. "How could I forget? The day before Flying Fox would leave for the LNER, he ran a hot box on one of his tender's axles. So, my brother, 4474 Victor Wild, was the replacement and ran The Riviera Limited Express. While Victor enjoyed his time at the GWR, poor Fox was quite embarrassed. Thankfully, Pendennis was a good old sport and said that hot boxes could happen to any engine. I'll gladly admit that all of us at King's Cross were sad to see Pendennis leave, he had made an everlasting impression on all of us. I only hope that he is okay now, where ever he is."

"I know it's a tumultuous time on British Railways," Duck said grimly. "But given how famous Pendennis Castle is, I'm sure he's going to be preserved. I just know it."

Great Northern smiled faintly at the pannier tank, a quiet thank you for his assurance. "The people would be fools not to preserve him. Thank you, Duck. And thank you for getting those coaches ready for me and Gordon. You are quite the station pilot."

"Well, there's only two ways of doing things," Duck began, quickly making sure that the other engines weren't about to sneer at him. "There's the Great Western Way or the Wrong Way."

"Ha!" Great Northern suddenly gave a great hoot. "The Great Western Way! Pendennis spoke about it all the time, whenever my friends and I were near him when he said that, we would say..."

"Don't we know it?"

"Why, yes, we did say... Wait a moment, how did you know?"

"The big engines say that whenever I talk about the Great Western Way. And I'll admit, I do tend to say it a little too much, at least."

Great Northern just chortled. "Well, if it's all the same to you, Duck, you go by your Great Western Way, and I'll go by my Great Northern Way, how does that sound?"

Duck grinned as he pulled out of the station and crossed tracks. "Sounds good to me. I hope you have good run with Gordon today. Now, pardon me, but I must get Emily's stopping train ready, cheerio!"

"Goodbye, Duck!" Great Northern called, watching as the pannier tank scurried away to the sidings to collect Emily's coaches. "Ah, westerners..." Great Northern exhaled, very amused by Duck, reminiscing his time with Pendennis as he crossed tracks and backed down onto the express, waiting for Gordon to arrive.

A few minutes later, Gordon backed down in front of Great Northern, looking very pleased. "Sorry if I kept you waiting, brother," he said. "Had to refill my tender with water after last night, you know how it is."

"It's no problem, Gordon," Great Northern replied as his fireman coupled the two brothers up. "You wouldn't believe how it is on the Mainland, water towers are slowly being taken away."

Gordon was horrified. "What?! B-But they can't do that! If all the water towers are taken away, then how is an engine supposed to run without overheating and having their boiler burnt?"

"The simple fact of the matter is, is that British Railways can and does do it," Great Northern answered grimly. "And if something goes wrong with an engine, they're less inclined to repair them and more likely have them withdrawn." Gordon was left speechless. "But I know for a fact that you don't have anything like that to worry about here, Gordon. Your controller, Sir Charles Topham Hatt is a good man who really cares about all of his engines, steam or diesel. You should be proud."

At that, Gordon smiled. "You're right, brother. I am proud. Very proud."

"As you should be. Now then, let's get this train to Barrow on record time, shall we?"

"Indeed!"

The two engines and their crews then heard the overhead call from the station speaker phone. " _Ladies and Gentlemen, the 7:30 Wild Nor' Wester express train heading to Barrow-in-Furness, calling in at Crovan's Gate, will be leaving shortly. All passengers heading to Barrow-in-Furness and Crovan's Gate, please make your way to Platform 1 now. Thank you._ "

In no time at all, the passengers hurried onto the platform and boarded the train. And once they were ready, the guard blew his whistle and waved his green. With a toot from their own whistles, Gordon and Great Northern let out clouds of steam before pulling slowly out of The Big Station right on time.

The two Gresley Pacifics had a ball as they thundered down the Mainline at the speed limit they were allowed to go as express engines. Great Northern felt like he was a young engine again. Seeing the countryside and stations of Sodor for the first time was like seeing the East Coast Mainline for the first time too. Needless to say, he loved it, as he was slowly falling in love with Sodor too.

Even when they came to their stop at Crovan's Gate, Great Northern was running high on adrenaline, or at least the steam in his boiler as he was totally energised. He was then greeted by Skarloey on the Little Railway's platform of the junction, who wished Great Northern the best of luck in his new life on Sodor, hoping to see him again many times before starting off before his long journey to Lakeside.

Not long after stopping at Crovan's Gate, rushing through Vicarstown and crossing the bridge onto the Mainland, Gordon, Great Northern and the Wild Nor' Wester pulled into Barrow right on time. The last remaining passengers disembarked and thanked the two Pacifics for a splendid run before boarding the next train heading to London which was being taken away by a Class 44 diesel.

"Well, Great Northern," Gordon began. "How did you like that run?"

"Gordon, it was splendid!" Great Northern beamed from buffer to buffer. "I haven't felt so alive in over two decades! I know I've said it before, but you really are a lucky engine here on Sodor. Thank you for showing me the sights of Sodor, I am absolutely blown away."

"You're welcome, brother. Believe you me, I'm sure you'll never get tired of thundering down the line at speed. I sure don't."

A little while later, Gordon took the down Wild Nor' Wester back to Knapford while Great Northern was given a stopping passenger train heading back to The Big Station too. By the time he got to Kellsthorpe Road, he met Emily heading to Vicarstown with her own stopping passenger train.

"Hello, Great Northern," she said. "How was your run with the express today?"

"Emily, my dear, it was fantastic," Great Northern smiled. "I feel like a Really Useful Engine again. And I couldn't be happier. I must say, you have some very nice-looking coaches. Their dark green and white livery really do match your own."

"Why, thank you!" Emily began to blush. "Yes, The Fat Controller was kind enough to give me my own special coaches to take after my incident with Annie and Clarabel. Even the passengers say how nice and comfortable they are too. They don't know it yet, but I'm sure they're going to love you as their new designated passenger engine."

Great Northern couldn't wait for that day. So, from that day forth, Great Northern was indeed designated as the Mainline passenger engine aside from Gordon thanks to his design as a Gresley Pacific and experience in pulling passenger trains. Often, you can see him roaring down the line, pulling either stopping or express passenger trains each. But there is more to Great Northern than this and there are many stories to come.

To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 4

 **What Comes Around, Goes Around**

It had been over two months since Great Northern had officially started his work on the Sodor as the main passenger engine of the NWR. In no time at all, thanks to his work ethic and experience, the passengers were completely won over by him. Whether a passenger train was a local or an express, Great Northern completed it without fuss. Giving his passengers the best rides they had ever received.

The other engines spoke highly of him too. Thomas, Percy and Toby said how kind he was as a tender engine and how he never looked down at them for being tank engines. Edward spoke of Great Northern being a wise engine like himself while Henry said that Great Northern was more than willing to help him out with one of his trains after he had accidentally burst his safety valve. Gordon also had high praise for his brother, calling him Gresley's Finest and one of the best engines the NWR had ever seen.

However, one engine in particular was not happy with Great Northern, and it came as no surprise that the very engine was James. The red engine grumbled endlessly about the Gresley A1. He was very jealous of the latter's sudden celebrity status amongst all the engines and he hated how loved he was by the passengers. And to make matters worse, he always pulled passenger trains, never any goods trains unlike James. Finally, one night at the sheds, James had had enough and complained to Edward.

"It's just not fair!" he whined. "Why is Great Northern 'Mr. Popular' all of sudden? What has he ever done that I haven't to earn such respect and admiration? Nothing! Absolutely nothing at all! I should be the designated passenger engine, not him!"

Edward rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

"James, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. You're a mixed-traffic engine, that means you pull freight and passengers. As for Great Northern, he was specifically designed to pull passenger trains. So it only makes sense for The Fat Controller to assign him to that kind of work. As for Great Northern being so popular? Well, he treats everyone the way they want to be treated. He even acts as a wise father figure that you could rely on."

"Pah!" James snorted. "All of you think he's the bee's knees, don't you? Well, you're wrong! I'm the real celebrity of this railway, not Great Northern! Just you wait, he'll cock up at some point. Mark my words!"

"I'd sooner run into some tar wagons," Edward murmured under his breath as James puffed away to get his next goods train.

The following morning, Great Northern was waiting at Barrow with an express passenger train. He and his crew had been at the station after the station master said that another important train was coming, and their express would have to wait. During his younger years, Great Northern would have been upset about having to wait with his own train, but now he was just glad for any short rest.

He didn't have to wait long however, he was surprised to see a long and large, dark green diesel arrive at the station's good's platform with a long mixed-goods train. The diesel was none other than a Class 28. A diesel class infamous for its teething troubles, but this diesel seemed determined and kind enough to say the least. Not to mention that by the sound of his engine, he had been working quite hard.

"Hello there," Great Northern began, hoping to make some conversation. "I'm Great Northern of Sodor, who might you be?"

"Oh, hello!" The diesel replied, looking very relieved to see a friendly face. "I'm BoCo. I've been sent to deliver an important goods train to Brendam Docks on the Island of Sodor. You wouldn't mind telling me where those docks are, do you?"

"Certainly, chap," Great Northern said. "Just cross over the bridge onto Sodor, then head a few miles west until you pass cross over a hill, then turn left onto the branchline track and you'll be at Brendam in no time. Don't worry, I'm sure the signalmen know you're coming anyway. So, tell me, BoCo, are you a visiting engine here on the NWR?"

"A-Actually, I'm here on trial," BoCo replied, stuttering. "British Railways doesn't like me or my siblings, they think we're all trouble, so they've sent us up north-west. My driver told me yesterday that I might be able to prove myself to your Controller and join your fleet. I hope I can, and I promise I'll work to the best of my ability."

"With an attitude like that, BoCo, there's no way The Fat Controller won't pass you for your trial," Great Northern assured him, making the green diesel smile thankfully. "Just work hard and do your best, that's all we ever ask."

"Will do," BoCo grinned as his signal then went green. "Oh, I need to go. I hope I see you around, Great Northern. Thanks for the advice!"

"Not a problem, BoCo!" Great Northern called watching as Class 28 trundled down the Mainline with his goods train.

However, as BoCo left, Great Northern noticed some wet round patches on the track and ballast left behind by BoCo and his train. BoCo didn't know it but he was leaking. Great Northern tried calling out to him.

"BoCo! I say, BoCo! You're leaking fuel from your..." But BoCo didn't hear as he was out of earshot in no time. "Oh, dear. I hope everything goes okay for BoCo. He really should have that leak looked to at some point."

Great Northern was then taken away from his musings, noticing his driver patting him lightly on his cab side. "Come on, old boy. Time to get going."

"Oh, right you are!" And with a hoot from his whistle, Great Northern departed shortly afterwards.

The signal had turned green as Great Northern then pulled out of the Barrow and was soon thundering down the line. He felt the wind blowing against his smokebox once more, enjoying the Sudrian scenery as he went. He was making good time as he rumbled over the Mainline. In no time at all, he would arrive at Kellsthorpe Road, then Cronk and finally Wellsworth before terminating at Knapford. But just as he left Kellsthorpe Road, he found himself moving slower and slower. The strange thing was, he didn't feel his crew putting on his brakes. But he did hear them grumble and groan in frustration as he came to a stop, the sound of unhappy passengers grew louder and louder too.

"Tom? Brian? What's happened?" Great Northern asked his crew. "Why have I stopped?"

"Your vacuum brakes are jammed hard on, Great Northern," his driver, Tom, explained. "Looks like we can't pull this train now."

Great Northern was gobsmacked. "B-B-But! This is an express train! I can't stand here doing nothing! What about our passengers?"

"I'll run up to the next signal-box and radio for help," Brian, Great Northern's fireman offered. "In the meantime, Tom, better tell the guard to set out some detonators along the track behind us until help arrives."

The driver nodded. "Aye, right you are then, Brian. Off ya pop."

With that, the fireman ran as quickly as he could to the next signal-box while Tom spoke to the guard about the detonators and informed the passengers of what had happened. Great Northern in the meantime, felt very embarrassed and very frustrated. Having his brakes jam on after a couple months after his rebuild? He felt very sheepish indeed.

A few minutes later, the fireman arrived back, tired but triumphant.

"Good news, they're sending an engine to help us on our way back to Knapford," he said, telling the driver and Great Northern. "He'll help keep the brakes off and will pilot in front of us once we make it back to The Big Station."

"Who's the engine?" the driver asked. "I hope it's an engine like Edward or Henry. I hear they're great help when working in teams."

"Actually, that's the bad news," the fireman chuckled nervously. "The only engine available was James."

"James?!" Great Northern felt quite the sinking feeling in his boiler. "I suddenly don't feel so good."

"Neither do I," his driver groaned, sighing with a hand on his forehead. "But there's nothing to be done. We'll just have to deal with James and his attitude once he gets here. Besides, we must get our passengers to their destinations, no matter how late."

"Agreed," Great Northern exhaled, he didn't like this situation, but come rain, hail or shine, he would always soldier on to get his passengers to their destinations. As any proper engine would. Although, he wasn't looking forward to seeing James. "Bother..."

Unfortunately, though, for Great Northern, James was howling as he backed down in front of him. "What's all this?" he laughed. "The illustrious Great Northern come to a halt because of jammed brakes? My, my, not very dignified for a Gresley Pacific, eh? What would your older brother say, hmm?"

 _Be humble and don't try to get your own back by bringing up his own past incidents,_ Great Northern thought to himself, desperately not trying to mention bootlaces and newspaper, the first Fat Controller's wet top-hat or some tar wagons. Instead, he decided to be grateful. "Thank you for coming here to save me and my passengers, James. I really appreciate it."

James, sadly, wasn't so humble. "And so you should be! Not so great are you, eh, Mr. Popular? Even after your rebuild, things still go wrong."

Great Northern felt his eye twitch at the impertinence of James, not to mention the soft grinding of his teeth behind some very tight lips, desperately trying hard to not let James get his goat. Eventually, the two engines were coupled up as James made sure that Great Northern's vacuum brakes were kept off as the cavalcade started off once more.

By the time they arrived at Knapford, James was feeling very pleased with himself. Great Northern in the meantime, felt miserable. He saw many a scornful glance at him from the passengers and dreaded what The Fat Controller would say to him. And sure enough, as soon as Duck had taken away his coaches, The Fat Controller came walking over to the pair from his office.

"Well, I must say, Great Northern," he began, hands behind his back. "This is all rather... unfortunate. I did not expect my passenger engine to have jammed brakes so soon after a major rebuild."

"Oh, yes. Very unfortunate," James tittered, feigning sympathy while Great Northern just glared at the red mogul.

"Ahem! Thank you, James," The Fat Controller coughed sternly, silencing the former as the latter turned to Great Northern. "I am sorry, Great Northern, but I am afraid that you must head back to the Steamworks to have your brakes fixed and have routine maintenance in case there might be any other... erm... unexpected surprises." He then turned to James. "In the meantime, James, you will handle Great Northern's duties until he has been repaired. I trust you can handle his work, can you not?"

James was delighted. "Oh, yes, sir! Of course, sir! Thank you, sir!"

"Very good. Now then if you would be so kind as to take Great Northern back to the Steamworks, that would be much appreciated."

"Yes, sir!" James grinned as he began pushing Great Northern backwards, much to the Gresley Pacific's surprise. "Come on, come on! Let's get you to the Steamworks and me doing your jobs! Oh, what a lark! What a lark!"

"I am never going to hear the end of this..." Great Northern moaned as James continued to boast.

For the rest of the day, Great Northern sat in the same track he was placed in the Steamworks during his rebuild. He watched out towards the Mainline longingly, counting down the moments he could return to work while the workmen checked him all over. Even though Gresley would look down at him for it, he rolled his eyes and groaned as James passed by with one of his passenger trains.

"Make way! Make way! Important passenger engine coming through!" James called, obnoxiously blowing his whistle as he passed the Steamworks, making sure Great Northern heard him.

Great Northern was at his wit's end by this point.

"I swear, by the time I get back to Tidmouth, I'm giving that engine a piece of my mind."

"Come now, my friend. Don't be like that," Victor said, trundling up next to Great Northern. "We'll have you ready in no time. Besides, you're going to have another engine with you."

"Another engine? Who?"

"That'll be me!"

Great Northern looked to see none other than BoCo back down into the track next to him. Great Northern was very surprised.

"Hi, Great Northern! I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I wasn't expecting to be back so soon," Great Northern chortled. "Let alone seeing you here too, BoCo. Actually, what are doing here in the Steamworks, anyway? I didn't know this works served diesels as well."

"We usually don't," Victor answered. "The Fat Controller is commissioning a Dieselworks to be constructed near Vicarstown, but in the meantime, any diesels that need fixing are more than welcome to come here. Thank goodness that workmen who know how to fix diesels were hired not long ago. We'll soon have BoCo back in working condition in no time too."

"Speaking of working," Great Northern cut in, "BoCo, how was your first day on Sodor? Did it go well? Did you meet Edward on his branchline?"

"I did meet Edward, and my day went well, for the most part at least," BoCo replied.

Great Northern was bemused. "What do you mean by 'the most part'? Did something bad happen?"

"Not 'bad', per se. It was just rather confusing and dare I say shocking. You see, I had made my way down Edward's Branchline passing through Wellsworth. I arrived at Brendam Docks and made my delivery. The dock manager then came over to me and my driver, saying that a row of trucks was needed to be taken to the yard at Wellsworth. So, I coupled up to the trucks and took them to Wellsworth. After delivering them, I decided to get some rest, all until a saddle tank engine appeared to my left out of nowhere."

"A saddle tank engine?" Great Northern asked, remembering something Edward had told him before. "Edward told me about two saddle tanks that work at the China Clay Pits beyond Brendam. Are you talking about Bill or Ben?"

"Both actually," BoCo chuckled as he continued his story. "Bill was the first tank engine I met, telling me that he wanted his trucks, which were mine. I told him to go away and then another tank engine appeared to my right. They went backwards and forwards. It went on and on until my eyes nearly popped out. Shortly after I realised that there was two of them. Thankfully, Edward arrived and set those two straight by telling them to collect the trucks that I was actually supposed to take. Apparently, the docks manager got the order wrong, somehow. From there, I worked with Edward for the rest of the day on the branchline. And when I met The Fat Controller at Knapford, he said that Edward had told him all about me and added that he was going to accept me into his fleet. At least until I am completely repaired. Grateful doesn't even begin to describe the way I feel. He even said my kind were unique and these workmen here at Crovan's Gate were up the for challenge of fixing me. Edward also said that I would make a great addition to his branchline, plus some work on the Mainline too."

Great Northern was delighted.

"That's marvellous, BoCo! I cannot tell you how happy I am for you. To think that you passed your trial on your first day too! You will make a fine addition to the NWR. I just know it. Despite all the engines we have here, there's plenty of work to do, I can assure of you that."

"Oh, I believe you," BoCo smiled. "Why, traversing Sodor alone gave my wheels a good run. I just know I'm going to love it here. Actually, The Fat Controller said that I'm going to be taking over the work for another engine who's had his own jobs swapped around. I think The Fat Controller said he was an experimental engine with wooden brakes at one time, who would have thought?"

Great Northern groaned again.

"He's talking about James. He's the engine who's taken over my passenger duties while I'm here for maintenance."

BoCo frowned, noticing how upset Great Northern was.

"Are you okay? You seem troubled."

"Ugh, James was the engine who had to rescue me and my train today when my brakes were jammed. You wouldn't believe the way an engine his age acted, seeing me helpless, stranded out on the Mainline with my coaches and passengers. He teased me non-stop and it was humiliating. And to add insult to injury, The Fat Controller gave him my workload to do. Passenger work only. Something of which James dreams about only doing. He could have acted respectful and humble, as I was to him, but no, he was disrespectful and very rude. To say that I don't like James would be an understatement."

"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that," BoCo murmured. "So, uh... how long until you think you'll be out, Great Northern?"

"Only Gresley knows, BoCo..." Great Northern sighed again, but then he smiled. "But don't you worry about me. Knowing the high qualifications of the workmen here, I'm sure they'll have you fixed properly in no time. And I know you'll do James' work far better than he'll ever do."

BoCo beamed at that. He was grateful to have such a friend like Great Northern along his other new friends, Edward, Bill and Ben. A couple of days later, Great Northern's words were proven true. The workmen had solved all of BoCo's engine and leaking troubles. Apparently, back on The Other Railway, shoddy repairs and lack of interest in spending the money necessary for proper repairs was the reason why BoCo and his siblings always had something wrong with them.

When asked by BoCo when he arrived at the Shunting Yards after leaving the Steamworks, The Fat Controller told him, "My engines come first on my railway. We've built replacements for your engine and have restored other parts where needs be. And now that you're in working order, you'll be one of my finest investments in recent memory. I have officially bought you from British Railways, welcome to the NWR, BoCo."

BoCo was so happy he tooted his horn in delight, celebrating his official welcome to his new home.

After that, he went straight to work looking after James' jobs for the next few days. During that time, he also helped Edward out on his branchline whenever he could. And almost immediately, the two engines became best friends. One day however, BoCo was taking some empty trucks down to the China Clay Pits and had the displeasure of meeting James at Wellsworth. Who was once again pulling one of Great Northern's express trains, this time to Vicarstown.

"Make way! Important passenger engine coming through!" he called, rudely blowing steam at poor BoCo who coughed terrible.

"What the-?! Hey! Do you mind?!" BoCo spluttered. "Hasn't anyone taught you any manners?"

James just sniffed at the diesel next to him.

"Oh, great... That's all we need on this railway. _Another_ diesel. Just as bad as the last one. Mind you keep those fumes away from my red paint, you dirty diesel. And you can keep those trucks while you're at it too! Dirty trucks, dirty diesels and dirty sidings, bleh!"

BoCo was hurt.

"Excuse me, but I'm the one who's been doing _your_ jobs while you've been handling Great Northern's trains. If anything, you should be thanking me."

"Thank _you_?!" James hollered. "I'll thank you when pigs fly and when engines bounce!" He rolled away still laughing as he blew steam at BoCo again. "Thank a diesel? Hahaha! What a lark! What a lark!"

"Jerk," BoCo muttered under his breath as he purred away down Edward's Branchline. Not long after, he met Edward at the docks and complained to him about James. "Great Northern is right. James is the rudest and most disrespectful engine I have ever met in my entire life! He called me a dirty diesel and didn't even thank me for doing _his_ jobs! I swear, if something doesn't happen to him soon, I'll do something."

"Now, now, don't be like that, BoCo," Edward told the Metrovick. "No engine should go looking to make trouble. Besides, it would be a terrible shame for you to ruin the high opinion The Fat Controller has of you. He would be very disappointed if you did lash out at James in any physical way."

BoCo sighed, relenting as he looked down at his buffers meekly. "I know... You're right, Edward. Still... I just wish James would his comeuppance for how bad he's been acting lately."

Edward chuckled. "Don't you worry about that. Karma is sort of a guaranteed thing here on Sodor. You'll see. James will get his comeuppance."

And he did.

A couple of days later, James was speeding down the line with another one of Great Northern's trains. His red paint shone in the morning light as the wind was blasting against his smokebox. James had never felt so happy, he didn't have to pull a single truck for a week now, and he wished it could last forever.

"This was what I was built for!" he exclaimed, puffing down the line proudly. "No more goods trains for me! That's for sure."

Unfortunately for James, his boasting didn't last long.

He felt a sudden burning sensation. It wasn't from his firebox, no. He could feel it below him, under his frames. He could also feel that same sensation somewhere under his tender too. Then it became too much to bear as he began wailing in pain.

"Ow! Ouch! Stop! Stop!" he cried. "I think I've run a hot-box! Stop!"

Once they had come to a stop, James' crew checked his wheels and located both of the hot-boxes. He had run a hot-box on one of his driving wheel axles and the middle axle on his tender. James was beside himself with fury.

"How did this happen?!" he cried. "Now I can't pull the train!"

"Cam, you didn't use enough greasing oil for James early this morning, didn't you?" the driver asked the fireman.

"Oh, sod off, Luke!" the fireman snapped. "You're the driver and it was your job to oil him up, not me! If anything, it's your fault!"

"I don't care who's fault it is!" James growled. "Can one of you please just go and send for help? Preferably before any of the other engines pass by!"

"Fine, I'll head off to the next signal-box," the fireman groaned. "In the meantime, Luke, you can tell the passengers what went wrong and how it was your fault."

"Now wait just a minute!" the driver spluttered as the fireman darted down the Mainline. "Hey! Get back here! Get back here, I say!"

But the fireman was already gone, leaving the driver to explain the situation to the guard and the very angry passengers. When help arrived, James did not like what he saw. Backing down in front of him was none other than Great Northern himself. Now completely repaired with his brakes working without hassle.

"My, my, James," Great Northern said as he was coupled up to the red mogul. "I must say, this scenario seems familiar doesn't it? Run a hot-box, you say? Oh no, wait... two from what the signalman told me and my crew. Dear, oh dear. Not very dignified for a passenger engine such as yourself, eh? What would you brothers back on the Mainland think?"

James said nothing.

Soon, Great Northern had shunted James into a siding before leaving with the express train with a rousing cheer from the passengers. James sighed glumly, he didn't feel so important now. However, things were going to go from bad to worse. Once they were at Knapford, BoCo arrived shortly afterwards, along with The Fat Controller, who was very stern with James.

"Well, James, I understand that this circumstance with you running a two hot-boxes was rather unfortunate and there was nothing you could do. However, I received complaints from not only other engines but also the passengers about how conceited you have been lately about doing Great Northern's work. I do not appreciate engines who think they are so important than they actually are. As punishment, I am sending you back to your mixed-traffic duties, but your goods work will be only that of coal and scrap trains. Am I understood?"

James grimaced, he hated coal and scrap goods trains most of all. But there was nothing he could do. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir."

"Very good," The Fat Controller then turned to BoCo. "Now then, BoCo, once you have taken James to the Steamworks, I would like for you to handle some work on the Mainline along with your own work on Edward's Branchline. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Oh, of course, sir!" BoCo beamed. "I'd be delighted, sir!"

"There's a good engine."

And with that, The Fat Controller walked away.

That night, Great Northern and BoCo were back at Tidmouth sheds along with Edward, who had been told about the whole incident by the two engines.

"Oh, dear," Edward chuckled. "I see James did get his comeuppance then."

"He did, indeed," BoCo agreed. "You were right after all, Edward."

"Well, let's just hope our James learns a lesson about this. Then again, knowing James, he probably won't," Edward turned to Great Northern. "What about you, Great Northern? How does it feel to be back?"

"Oh, just splendid, my dear Edward," Great Northern grinned. "Now that my brakes are completely repaired, I won't have to worry about them jamming up on me anymore. Not only that, but the passengers like me again too. Still, I must admit, I don't envy James on coal or scrap duty. That's for sure."

The three engines laughed. While at the Steamworks, a certain red engine grumbled dreadfully. Complaining about passengers, incompetent crewmen and hot-boxes.


	5. Chapter 5

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 5

 **Buzz. Buzz.**

It had been a few days after James had run a hot-box with Great Northern's express train and the red engine was back in service with his usual duties alongside a now very happy BoCo. The Class 28 diesel was happily working on not only Edward's Branchline, but also on the Mainline too. After his experience with Bill and Ben the tank engine twins, Edward taught BoCo how to handle them. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be.

All he had to do was be stern with them and get up and in their faces. Given how big BoCo was as a diesel, it wasn't hard for him to look quite intimidating as he glared down at the twins. However, BoCo only had to do that in any extreme situations. Most of the time, all he would do was say that he had some trucks for them but would take them away if they didn't do as he said. That got the twins to smarten up and do as they were told right away.

In addition, since BoCo had been accepted into the North-Western Railway by The Fat Controller, the latter had given him a new classification specifically for diesels on the railway. Instead of his old number D5702, he was now renumbered as D2. Which stood for Diesel No. #2. He soon found out that Diesel No. #1 was Daisy the diesel railcar who worked on Thomas' Branchline, of whom he met one day at Elsbridge. The diesels got on swimmingly and became quick friends after that.

One morning at Tidmouth Sheds, BoCo woke to sound of two engines having an argument close by to him. He opened his eyes to see that dawn had just broken out over the horizon as the sun slowly rose in the sky. Then he heard the two engines arguing become clearer and clearer. It was Great Northern and Gordon.

"And just why didn't you get your firebox cleaned out the night before, Gordon?" Great Northern asked his older brother, sounding quite annoyed and rather disappointed.

"It's not my fault, Great Northern!" Gordon shot back defensively. "I didn't know my firebox needed cleaning last night and besides, my crew left as soon as they put me away in the sheds!"

"Well, if you're trying to set an example for the other engines then I must say that you are doing a rather poor job," Great Northern scoffed. "Just imagine what our builder what have said to you."

Gordon grimaced."Don't you dare bring him into this!"

"I can, and I will. Besides, thanks your negligence, you won't be ready to take the Wild Nor' Wester. Which means another engine will have to take your place while you have your firebox cleaned."

"Can't you take the Wild Nor' Wester, Great Northern?" BoCo asked, joining the conversation.

"I could," Great Northern considered. "But to be truthful, I'd rather handle my own passenger trains for now. I know, why don't you take the express, BoCo? Edward is always telling me how good you are with passengers on his branchline."

"A diesel to take my express?!" Gordon spluttered indignantly. "Certainly not! I won't stand for it. He's a diesel!"

Great Northern was quick to come to BoCo's defence. "Gordon, BoCo might be a diesel, he has the heart of a true Sudrian engine, unlike you. And you do all of us Gresley Pacifics disgrace by acting so rudely to the newest addition of our fleet. You should be ashamed of yourself." Gordon just grunted and looked away. "Don't mind him, BoCo. He gets incredibly protective of his express when he's not pulling it. I guess that it's just bad luck that he doesn't like diesels either."

BoCo sighed, he knew this kind of prejudice well. "It's alright, Great Northern. I understand. My siblings and I weren't that liked by the other diesels on The Other Railway anyway. That's why we were sent to Cumbria in the first place. Because of how failure prone we are."

"Yes, you were. But now you're not. And you've proved yourself to be a true Sudrian engine, there's no doubt about that. I know it may seem arduous but give the others some time and they'll come around to you. It's a good thing that the Ffarquhar engines like you now."

BoCo smiled, remembering the day when he had met Thomas, Percy, Toby and Daisy on Thomas' Branchline. "You're right, thank you, Great Northern."

"You're welcome, chap."

Soon enough, The Fat Controller arrived at the sheds, greeting the engines as he told them about their jobs for the day. Most of them had the same jobs while Edward, Henry and BoCo had been given a few extra jobs that needed to be completed, mostly freight work. Unfortunately, The Fat Controller was none too pleased with Gordon and was forced to have another engine to take the express that morning while Gordon would be given freight duties as punishment for not having his firebox cleaned out the night before.

So, in the meantime, BoCo made his way to the Shunting Yards to collect his first goods train for the day. He marshalled them without fuss and got them all in line for the long trip to Barrow. He was waiting for clearance to move until Duck arrived, shunting some trucks of his own into the siding next to BoCo. The station pilot looked over at BoCo and was not happy at all.

"Oh, it's another one of you then," Duck sniffed.

BoCo was surprised and hurt. "One of what? What do you mean by that?"

"A diesel. You're a diesel," Duck answered, in a rather rude and blunt manner. "Diesels are not welcome on these lines."

BoCo frowned. "And why not?"

"Well, the first diesel we had tried to prove that he was revolutionary and what not. Thinking himself and his kind better than us steam engines. He took a personal dislike to me and lied to the engines so that I was sent away in disgrace. I had done nothing wrong in the first place, mind you. Fortunately for me, he shot himself in the bogie and was sent away."

"Oh, my..." BoCo was taken aback, and now realised why he been ignored by most of the engines. "Well, I'm sorry for how the last diesel treated all of you. But that doesn't give you the right to judge all diesels by the actions of just one alone. However, I do know how to it feels to be banished. All too well in fact."

Duck was very surprised at this. "You do?"

"Yes, myself and my whole class were sent away from London and were relocated to Cumbria. Thanks to our teething troubles, we were sent away. British Railways wanted us Class 28s to be out of the way for the newer, less problematic diesels."

"Oh, dear..." Duck felt rightfully ashamed. "You really do have something in common with us steam engines. Pardon me for acting so rude just now. I haven't had the best of experiences with diesels, just as I have said just now. For that, I apologise."

BoCo smiled. "No need to apologise. Anyway, my name's BoCo. What's yours?"

"I'm Montague, No. 5741 of the Great Western Railway. But I usually go by my nickname, Duck. I'm the station pilot here at Knapford. Have you met any of the other engines yet?"

"Why, yes. I know Great Northern, Edward and the tank engines twins, Bill and Ben."

Duck chuckled. "Bill and Ben are quite the contrast to Great Northern and Edward, I must say."

"Indeed," agreed BoCo. "Have they played tricks on you?"

"Goodness me, yes," Duck laughed. "Edward's the only one who can keep them in order. You know, I sometimes call them, 'The Bees'."

"A good name!" BoCo chortled. "They're terrors when they start buzzing around."

Just then, James bustled in alongside them.

"What's that, Duck? Are you scared of bees? They're only insects after all, so don't let that buzz-box diesel tell you different."

"His name is BoCo," Duck replied sternly. "And we-"

" _I_ wouldn't care!" James cut in. "If hundreds of bees were swarming around, I'd just blow smoke and make them buzz off."

"Buzz. Buzz. Buzz," Duck retorted cheekily as BoCo snickered.

James then puffed away back to the station to take the express that morning. Almost ten minutes later, BoCo and Duck saw The Fat Controller approaching them. Looking most annoyed and quite skittish at that. He stood in front of BoCo.

"BoCo," he said. "I am afraid that I have to relieve James of express duties today as well. Due to... erm... an unforeseen incident with some bees."

Duck shot a glance BoCo knowingly. "Buzz. Buzz. Buzz."

BoCo chuckled before looking back to The Fat Controller. "So, what's to be done about the express then, sir?"

The Fat Controller grinned. "I would like you to take the express today, BoCo. I think it would be a good chance for me to see how well you could do with a train such as this."

BoCo was delighted. "Oh, yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I won't let you down, sir! Wait... what about my trucks?"

"Don't worry, I'll look after them until another engine can take them," Duck assured.

"Thank you, Duck," The Fat Controller nodded to the pannier tank and turned back to BoCo. "Now then, BoCo, you'd best be off. There's a good engine."

"Right away, sir!"

And with that, BoCo trundled away to The Big Station.

In no time at all, he backed down in front of the coaches of the Wild Nor' Wester, which were all waiting for him at Platform 1. Once he had backed down, he looked over to Platform 3, surprised to see Great Northern with his local passenger train. At first, the latter was looking rather disgruntled, then he was jubilant when he saw BoCo.

"BoCo, my dear engine! Oh, thank goodness!" Great Northern called out. "I was hoping Sir Charles would send you!"

"Great Northern, what's all this I heard what happened with James and some bees?" BoCo asked.

"Ugh, it was the fault of an old lady and two porters with a beehive. The porters stopped with their trolley with the beehive on it, only have the hive fall over and let the bees escape. You wouldn't believe how fast the station was deserted after that. Well, aside from my passengers hurrying into my coaches while my crew ducked their heads as the bees swarmed around James and his crew."

"Oh, dear..." BoCo murmured. "What happened next?"

"You wouldn't believe it. The bees all settled down on James' boiler and from what I saw, they rather liked it. James tried to make them, 'buzz off' by blowing smoke at them. Only to have the wind blow the smoke away. Then, one set down on his smokebox and for some reason, stung James right on his nose." Great Northern then burst out laughing. "His nose went just as red as his paint!"

BoCo laughed hysterically. "My, my! Poor old James, he never gets a break! Lady Karma has it out for him!"

"She does indeed!" Great Northern hollered as he then heard BoCo's guard blow his whistle. "Oh, I think that's for you, chap. Best not to keep the express waiting any longer. And I don't want to keep my passengers waiting any longer either."

"Right you are!" BoCo called, blowing his horn as his driver opened his regulator and pulled proudly out of Knapford.

By the time he arrived, at Barrow, BoCo learned that he had been able to make up some of the lost time, despite not actually being able to be right on time all the same. In any case, The Fat Controller was very pleased with him nonetheless. After that, BoCo rested in a siding until it was time for him to return to Knapford with the return journey for the express. As he rested, BoCo watched as two blue tender engines arrived with his goods trains from earlier that morning. He was very pleased to learn that his old train had been taken care of.

"Oh, thank you so much for looking after my goods train and bringing it here," BoCo said to the two engines, of whom were Donald and Douglas, but BoCo didn't know this yet. And he didn't know about the Scottish twins' hatred for diesels.

"Your goods train?!" Donald snorted. "What are ye blatherin' on aboot? This is our goods train, laddy!"

BoCo was startled by how angry Donald was. "B-B-But... That was my good train until The Fat Controller asked me to take the express from James and-"

"You took the Wild Nor' Wester?!" Douglas spluttered. "A diesel! I told ya, Donnie, them diesels would make their way to Sodor and try to take over! One's already taken over the express! The conniving terrors they are!"

"Och, aye! Just like back over in Scotland, Douggie!" Donald agreed as he glared at BoCo. "Ye might've taken over the express, you greasy oil can! But you'll never take over Sodor like you lot did in Scotland. Over our rusted boilers!"

"Here, here!" Douglas chorused as the Caledonians whistled rudely at a bewildered BoCo. "Go back to whatever greaseball ye came from, tin piece pile of oil scrap!"

Poor BoCo was close to tears.

"I... I was told to take the express by The Fat Controller and I never wanted to take over Sodor, all I wanted was to-"

"Och, do ye hear that, Donnie?" Douglas scoffed. "The wee lad tryin' to speak but he cannae. How does it feel to be the on the receivin' end, huh?!"

"Speak up, ye spamcan!" Donald shouted as the twins continued to jeer at BoCo.

BoCo felt as though he was going to breakdown crying at any moment, all until he heard a very loud and very familiar whistle that he knew well. The whistle echoed noisily throughout the yard, Donald and Douglas' frames shook as Great Northern pulled up alongside them, blowing steam from his cylinder cocks right in front of their faces. The twins coughed and gagged from the steam as they turned their attention to Great Northern.

Donald was first. "Hey! What was that for?!"

"Yeah!" Douglas agreed. "How dare ye do that to us!"

Great Northern had a furious look on his face as he let the twins have it. "How dare me? How dare me?! How dare you two for abusing poor BoCo!" he snapped. "Neither of you have the right to demean and threaten such a good engine and friend of mine! He's done nothing to either of you!"

"But he's a diesel!" Douglas protested.

"And he took the express!" Donald added. "Just like the other diesels on the Mainland did to the steam engines and their expresses! Like what they did in Scotland!"

Great Northern growled as he blew steam in front of the Caledonians again, causing the twins to cough and close their eyes once more.

"Ahh! Me eyes!" they cried.

"Enough is enough!" Great Northern boomed, leaving no room for the twins to argue as they began to cower in front of the Gresley A1. "I had it with you two abusing poor BoCo when he has done nothing wrong. Now, he took the express because The Fat Controller told him to since James had an incident at Knapford and Gordon didn't have his firebox cleaned out last night. So, no, BoCo is not here on Sodor to maliciously take over all of our trains. He is now a valued member of the North-Western Fleet. If you don't believe me, ask The Fat Controller himself." He winked to BoCo. "Isn't that right, BoCo?"

BoCo managed a tearful but relieved smile. "Y-Yes. The Fat Controller welcomed me to his fleet a few days ago. He even gave me a new classification as D2. Which means Diesel No. 2 of the NWR."

The twins looked to BoCo's cab and indeed see 'D2' written in white on the side of BoCo's cab. They then remembered that Daisy had been numbered as D1 and realised what they had done to BoCo. Both engines looked sheepishly to each other as Great Northern continued to glare at them relentlessly.

"Well?" Great Northern asked, a stern look and a raised eyebrow to boot. "What do you two have to say for yourselves? And to BoCo?"

"Ah, heheh," Douglas chuckled nervously. "S-Sorry aboot that, BoCo. W-We didnae mean anythin' by what we said. Right, Donnie?"

"A-Aye!" Donald agreed quickly. "We may've have gotten carried away with what we said to ye. We're sorry. Can ye ever forgive us?"

"I-It's alright," BoCo sniffed, managing to not choke up anymore. "It was just a misunderstanding, right?"

"A misunderstandin'!" Douglas shouted. "Aye! That was it. A mere misunderstandin', right, Donnie!"

"Aye, Douggie!" Donald agreed. "T'was just an misunderstandin'. Nothin' more! So, we're all good, right?"

BoCo was still a little unsure, but he just wanted the twins to be gone all the same. "Uh... Sure, I-I guess..."

"Now then, you two..." Great Northern spoke to the Caledonians with a glare that stared right into their boilers. "SCRAM!"

Without any more encouragement, Donald and Douglas scurried away, leaving Great Northern with a very thankful BoCo. Great Northern sighed deeply as he looked to BoCo.

"I'm terribly sorry about Donald and Douglas, BoCo. It was rather bad luck they met you here before I arrived."

"It was a good thing you came along when you did," BoCo replied, breathing heavily in relief. "They... They really seemed to hate me. Even though I never met them before."

"I know, and I understand," Great Northern assured him. "You see, some engines have a hard time getting over their own personal bigotry and prejudice. Which more often than not, stems from personal experience. And from what they told me what happened to them back in Scotland and the diesels that arrived to take their work, it's no wonder Donald and Douglas gave you quite the earful."

"Huhh..." BoCo exhaled. "It seems to be an all too familiar story on this railway and its steam engines."

"That might so," Great Northern admitted. "However, as I have said before, just give the other engines some time and they'll come around... eventually. Besides, just call if you need me. I'll set them straight." BoCo smiled at that, relieved to know that he had a friend he could count on. "Now then, enough of all this depressing talk, tell me, how did you feel about taking The Wild Nor' Wester for the first time?"

BoCo beamed as he began telling Great Northern about his first time with an express passenger train and was proud to admit that The Fat Controller would have him pull the train for the rest of the day.

Later that night, at Tidmouth Sheds, no one seemed to notice when James came back. The engines were all talking about a new beehive on wheels. "It was red," they all said. Then they said, "Buzz. Buzz," and laughed a lot. James thought that for big Mainline engines, they were being very silly indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

Great Northern the A1 Pacific Chapter 6

 **Mainline Exploits**

On the Fat Controller's North-Western Railway, Thomas and Edward's Branchlines are important. Both branchlines help bring in valuable traffic, but the bridges aren't so strong as those on the Mainline. That is why The Fat Controller doesn't allow heavier Mainline engines such as Gordon and Henry to run on them. If, however, you would have heard Gordon talking to Edward and Great Northern, you would have thought The Fat Controller had forbidden him to run on branchlines for quite another reason.

"It's not fair," Gordon grumbled one day in the sheds.

"What's not fair?" Edward asked, yawning.

"Letting branchline engines run Mainline trains," Gordon answered, sniffing.

"Oh, grow up, Gordon." Great Northern groaned. "BoCo is more than capable of running on branchlines and the Mainline. He is quite flexible and is a good worker too. You're just jealous that he ended up taking the Wild Nor' Wester a couple of days ago after you forgot to have your firebox cleaned out."

Gordon glowered at his younger brother. He did love Great Northern, yes. But as his brother, he was especially good at calling him out and making him feel worse than he thought he should. Then, Edward spoke again.

"Never mind, Gordon. I'm sure BoCo will let you pull his trucks sometimes. That would make it quite fair."

Gordon spluttered furiously. "I won't pull BoCo's dirty trucks! And I certainly won't run on branchlines either!"

"Why ever not?" Edward asked, innocently. "It would be a nice change."

"The Fat Controller would never approve," Gordon said loftily. "Branchlines are vulgar."

At this, Great Northern finally lost patience. "You know what, Gordon? I've had it with you and this nonsense. You say that branchlines are vulgar? Well, you are nothing but wrong. Branchlines are important, whether you realise it or not. How do you think we get china clay up to the Shunting Yards at Knapford? Via Edward's Branchline! How do you think we get stone down from Anopha Quarry, hmm? From Thomas' Branchline! Not to mention all the goods from the farms around those areas too.

"Sodor is very lucky to have branchlines nowadays, Gordon," Great Northern continued. "Dr. Beeching and his Beeching Axe saw to most of Britain's branchlines to be torn up and taken away for 'fiscal reasons', as BR put it. Whole communities were then separated from the Mainline and engines that used to run on the branchlines found themselves with less work to do. Which meant more of a chance of being withdrawn and scrapped. And one more thing, The Fat Controller doesn't let us go down branchlines because us Mainline engines are too heavy for the track and bridges, but in your case, dear brother, you're just the fattest."

Gordon gasped at what his brother had said and was red in the face. However, he knew he had been completely demolished by what Great Northern had said and had no argument to refute him with. So, begrudgingly, he decided to leave the sheds, grumbling horribly as he went.

Edward looked to Great Northern, smirking. "Well, well, you certainly put him in his place."

"That I did," Great Northern said proudly. "As I did, James, Donald and Douglas. Hopefully, Gordon will get over this branchlines and diesels nonsense once and for all. Pardon me, Edward, but I need to meet someone now, goodbye."

"Goodbye!"

And with that, Great Northern left the sheds.

He soon arrived at The Shunting Yard. and find the engine he was looking for. BoCo was marshalling his trucks in the yard, ready for the trip to Wellsworth. Great Northern sidled up alongside him.

"Good morning, BoCo."

"Oh, good morning to you too, Great Northern," BoCo smiled. "What brings you here to The Shunting Yards? I thought you would be at the station by now."

"I've got some time until then. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know about something. Edward and I were talking to Gordon and he was blathering on about branchlines, diesels and what not. And he specifically talked about you and how you pulled the express the other day. Calling you a branchline diesel."

BoCo was taken aback. "But I can run on both branchlines and the Mainline. The Fat Controller knows this, so why doesn't Gordon?"

"Because my brother is conceited as all get out," Great Northern sighed. "Look, I came here so I could warn you beforehand about Gordon should anything arise. We don't want another repeat of Donald and Douglas. So, my advice is to try and keep your distance from him until Edward and I can make him see sense. And if he does make remarks about you, take no notice and leave him to me. You got it?"

"Got it," BoCo smiled. "Thanks for looking out for me, Great Northern You're a good friend."

Great Northern just chortled as he winked to BoCo. "What friends for, eh?"

Later that night Knapford, Duck had been busy for the last passenger trains of the night. Shunting all the necessary coaches into Platforms 1, 2 and 3 for Gordon, Great Northern and Edward. Gordon was the take the 6:25pm Wild Nor' Wester express train while Edward was to take his local train down to Brendam at 6:30pm and Great Northern was to take his local passenger train down the Mainline towards Vicarstown at 6:35pm.

However, something went terribly wrong.

Gordon, his driver and his fireman all said that it was the lady's fault. She wore a green floppy hat and was saying goodbye to a friend sitting the coach nearest the guard's van. It had almost been time to start. The fireman looked back, he was new to the job, he didn't see the guard, but he did see something green waving. He thought it was the guard's flag.

"Right away, mate!" he called, but the guard hadn't waved his flag at all.

When Gordon started, he had left some luggage, several indignant passengers and the guard all standing on the platform. Both Great Northern and Edward were very surprised by this turn of events as they knew that their trains were now going to be delayed. And by the time Gordon was brought back, Edward's train was already overdue.

"Gordon, you've gone and missed your pass!" The Fat Controller said angrily. "Now we must clear Edward's train before you can start!"

This should have put everything right for the least possible trouble, but Control at The Big Station, made things worse. They forgot to warn the signalman before Wellsworth about the change of plan. It was dark by the time all three trains reached Wellsworth. Edward was led out onto the Mainline and Gordon was sent down the branchline while, luckily for Great Northern, was the only engine for his train to be sent down the right path that night. But even then, it took The Fat Controller several hours to sort out the tangle and pacify the passengers.

In the end, Gordon was left with his fire drawn, cold and cross in one of Edward's sidings at Brendam. The big blue engine was not happy at all that night. However, when the story had been told what happened that night to BoCo by Edward and Great Northern, the big friendly diesel thought it was a great joke.

"I wonder how he liked going down a 'vulgar branchline' then, eh?" he laughed.

"I'm surprised he made it to Brendam," Great Northern chuckled. "I thought it he would be too fat for the bridges to handle!"

"Ugh, we're going to get an earful tomorrow night," Edward sighed, rolling his eyes. "I just know it."

"Not to worry, I'll go check on him tomorrow morning," BoCo replied. "I've got some trucks to take down to Bill and Ben and I'll check and see if Gordon's okay."

And the next morning, BoCo had done just that.

However, as he arrived at Brendam, he was greeted to quite the sight of Bill and Ben surrounding Gordon on both sides. The twins had nasty smiles on their faces as they sidled up next to the blue A0.

"What's that?" Bill asked loudly.

"Shush!" whispered Ben. "It's Gordon."

"It looks like Gordon, but it can't be. Gordon never comes down on branchlines. He thinks them vulgar!"

At first, Gordon pretended he hadn't heard them.

"If it isn't Gordon," mused Ben, "then it's just a pile of old iron."

"Which we'd better take to the scrapyard."

"No, Bill, this lot's useless for scrap, we'll take it to the docks and dump him in the sea."

Gordon was very alarmed. "I am Gordon! Stop! Stop!"

The twins paid no attention as Gordon shut his eyes and prepared for the worst. The twins continued to argue loudly about the scrapyard or the sea. Up until that point, Gordon had disapproved of diesels. They were, he considered, ugly, smelly and noisy. But when he opened his eyes to see BoCo coming into the yard he thought him the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"BoCo! My dear engine!" Gordon gasped. "Save me, please! I beg of you!"

BoCo quickly sized up the situation. "Alright, you two. That's enough fooling around. Be off with you and get back to work."

The twins were cheeky at first, but when BoCo threatened to take away their coal trucks he had brought for them, that made them behave at once. Gordon thought BoCo was wonderful and spoke to BoCo once they were back at the sheds.

"Those little demons!" he said. "How do you do it, BoCo?"

"Ah, well," BoCo chuckled. "It's just a knack."

Gordon thinks that to this day, that BoCo well and truly saved his life. However, BoCo, along with Great Northern, Edward and the other engines know that the twins were only teasing and pulling his wheels. A couple of days after the incident, Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon that it served him right for acting so arrogant. Needless to say, Gordon was furious.

A few days later, some enthusiasts came to the railway. On their last afternoon, they went to the China Clay Works. Poor Edward found it hard to start the heavy train from Knapford. The other engines all gossiped about him just as he left the station.

"Did you see him straining?" Henry asked, sympathetically.

"Positively painful, if you ask me," remarked James.

Gordon however, was not so sympathetic. "Just pathetic," he grunted. "Old Edward should give up and be preserved before it's too late."

"Oh, shut up!" Duck burst out. "You're all jealous. Edward is better than any of you."

"Quite right, Duck," Great Northern agreed. "Edward might be an old engine, but he'll surprise us all."

"They don't call him 'Old Reliable' for nothing," said BoCo. "The Fat Controller gave him a branchline to run for a reason, after all."

Down at the China Clay Works, Bill and Ben were delighted with the enthusiasts. They loved having their photographs taken and took the party to the workings beyond Brendam in a brakevan special train. However, on the way home, the weather changed. Wind and rain buffeted poor Edward. His sanding gear malfunctioned, his wheels slipped, and his fireman rode in front by dropping sand on the rails.

Edward wheezed dreadfully as he puffed onwards. "Come on... Come on! This dreadful!"

But there was worse to come.

Before his driver had a chance to check them, his wheels slipped so fiercely with a shrieking crack, something broke and battered his frames and splashers out of shape. The passengers all gathered around while the crew inspected the damage. Repairs took some time.

"One of your crankpins broke, Edward," said his driver at last. "We've taken your side rods off. Now you're a single, like an old-fashioned engine. Do you think you can get these people home, old boy? They must start back tonight."

Edward was unsure but determined. "I'll try, sir," he grimaced from the pain.

They backed down to where the line was more nearly level. Edward puffed and pulled his hardest. Unfortunately, his wheels kept slipping and he just couldn't start the heavy train. The passengers were getting anxious. The driver, fireman and the guard went along the train and made adjustment to the coaches.

"We've loosened the couplings, Edward," they said. "Now you can pick your coaches up one by one, just as you do with trucks."

Edward was grateful. "That will be much easier. Thank you..." So, with the fireman carefully sanding the rails in front. The driver gently opened the regulator. "Come on...!" puffed Edward. He moved cautiously forward, ready to take the strain as his tender coupling tightened against the weight of the first coach. The first coached moved which then helped the second. The second helped the third and so on down the train. "I've done it... I've done it!" Edward puffed proudly, his wheels spinning with excitement.

"Steady, old boy," warned his driver, skilfully watching the wheelslips. "Well done, boy. You've got 'em. You've got 'em!"

And he listened happily to Edward's steady beat as he forged slowly up the hill and towards The Big Station. The passengers were thrilled. Most had their heads out of the windows, they waved and shouted, cheering Edward the blue engine on all the way to Knapford.

Meanwhile, at Knapford, The Fat Controller was waiting urgently for Edward and his passengers. It was now very late as Great Northern was also at the station ready with his own fast train heading back to Barrow to take the enthusiasts home. The Fat Controller looked at his watch and the station clock again and again.

"Where on earth is Edward?" The Fat Controller fretted. "What's taking him so long?"

"If you don't mind me saying so, sir," Great Northern cut in. "It is rather wet today, so maybe he's having trouble climbing the hills on his branchline? Wheelslips are certainly a chance in this kind of weather."

"That might be so, but Edward should have his sandboxes working and be using them. I just hope he and the enthusiasts are alright."

"Sir, I have known many engines in my life and I can assure you that none are as quite determined or have as much heart as Edward. That is for certain. He will get here, I'm sure of it. He has to."

The Fat Controller sighed with a hand mopping his brow. "I certainly hope so..."

Just then, a familiar whistle echoed right outside of the station's entrance as the puffing, wheezing and groaning of turning wheels could be heard over a one-mile radius. Great Northern, The Fat Controller and the station staff all gawked as Edward pulled into the terminating platform and let out a relieved sigh and wheesh of steam once he had stopped.

"I... made... it..." Edward sighed, ready for his wheels to fall off right his frames.

The Fat Controller stepped angrily forward towards Edward and his crew, pointing towards the station clock. However, the excited and grateful passengers swept him aside. They cheered for Edward, his driver and his fireman for a job well done before rushing off to get into Great Northern's train. Great Northern then steamed away to another storm of cheers, but not before everyone knew of Edward's story.

After that, Edward went thankfully to the shed while Duck, BoCo and Emily saw to it that he was left in peace. Gordon, Henry and James remained respectfully silent. Once Edward had been sent to the Steamworks, The Fat Controller asked BoCo to take care of Edward's Branchline, along with some help from Emily. BoCo was very pleased as the two engines worked smashingly together with passenger or freight work. The praises were glowing to say the least.

One night, while Edward was still at the Steamworks, BoCo, Emily and Great Northern all came to pay the blue engine a visit. Edward was delighted to have his friends see him once again as he caught up on all of their gossip from the past few days.

"We've really missed you back at Tidmouth, Edward," said Emily. "Even Gordon, Henry and James miss you too. It just isn't the same with you there."

Edward smiled, a warm feeling sparkling in his boiler. "Well, isn't that nice? Not to worry, the boys here in the Steamworks should have me repaired in no time. I swear, the quality of their work gets better and better with age."

"I can certainly agree to that," Great Northern added. "They did a Doncaster job if not better in my books. I still can't believe they were actually able to rebuild me into my first shape. They are really masters of their trade."

"Indeed, they are!" agreed BoCo. "The men here fixed all of my mechanical troubles that myself and my class have been riddled with. After I had been repaired, I have never felt so young in my life."

Emily then looked Edward's wheels and ruptured splashers, she winced at the sight. "Edward? How bad did it hurt?"

"It was excruciating to say the least," Edward admitted. "It could have been avoided if my sandboxes hadn't failed, then I wouldn't have had my wheels slip. But I am just glad that I got the enthusiasts to The Big Station all the same."

"You two should have heard them all that night," Great Northern told BoCo and Emily. "The enthusiasts cheered so loud for Edward and even louder still once I had left with them on my train. It does my firebox good to know that people these days are very understanding. That they understand when a proper engine has the heart and determination to get the job done, none matter what. That night, Edward was battered, weary but unbeaten. A true example to us all."

"Thank you, Great Northern," Edward smiled gratefully. "That really means a lot coming from you." He then looked to BoCo and Emily. "So, I've heard that you two have been running my branchline. How has it been lately?"

From there, the two engines told Edward all about their duties on his branchline which they shared together. Bill and Ben still tease both engines, but they don't mind. They knew how to handle those tank engines anyway. Edward was also glad to hear that BoCo was truly now one of the family.

Unsurprisingly, Donald and Douglas were the last to accept him, although, they were probably coaxed quite quicker by Great Northern's stern behaviour around them. BoCo even helped them with their goods trains every now and again, and for that, the twins are quite thankful. Any other day they were heard to remark:

"For a diesel, yon' BoCo's nae such a bad engine!"

That, from the Caledonian Twins, is certainly high praise indeed.

To Be Continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 7

 **Enterprising Engines, Big and Small**.

The Fat Controller's Railway has a new look. From Tidmouth to Barrow, from Ffarquhar and Knapford, and from Brendam to Knapford, the way gang was clearing old ballast from the track and were packing the sleepers with fresh stones. The gangers were pleased.

"Weeds don't grow in it," they say. "This is the best ballast in the north-west."

Even James had stopped grumbling about dirty sidings too.

Much to the surprise of the other engines, Donald and Douglas disappeared regularly. Apparently, they had been going north past Tidmouth Station. They had been going along a line of which the others had never gone. Little did the engines know that The Fat Controller had just finished rebuilding the Tidmouth-Arlesburgh branchline. The Caledonian Twins returned with ballast trains trailing behind them. It was most queer indeed. And the twins were most mysterious about it all.

"Verra wee engine bring the ballast doon from the hills," was all they would say.

Soon, the big engines could talk of nothing else at the sheds. James and Henry thought the 'verra wee engines' must be some kind of magic.

"I don't believe it," sniffed Gordon.

"It's not like Donald and Douglas haven't pulled our wheels before," added Emily. "They're up to something."

"They are indeed," Great Northern agreed. "There must be a logical explanation for all of this. But those twins are keeping it from us for some reason or other."

However, the Great Western pannier tank, Duck, was the most curious out the whole lot. So, after finishing his station pilot duties for the morning, he asked for permission to take some trucks up the new branchline to collect more ballast. He didn't return until midday as he got the next trains organised. Once he brought Emily's coaches into place at Platform 2, he found Great Northern waiting at Platform 3 along with his coaches, waiting patiently for Duck to take the coaches away to free him from the platform.

"Ah, hello, Duck," Great Northern said to the pannier. " I see you're back."

"Yes, I am. I..." Duck stopped for a moment, stunned. "H-How did you know I was gone?"

"I overheard the foreman say that you took some empty trucks up north like Donald and Douglas have been doing," Great Northern grinned slyly as Duck smiled sheepishly. "So, tell me, where does the ballast come from and who _actually_ brings it down from the hills?"

If engines could sweat, Duck would have been sweating a river. "Oh, y-you know already, right? The 'verra wee engines' who bring the ballast down from the hills. The ones that Donald and Douglas are always telling us about it."

"That still doesn't answer my question. Duck, as your friend, please tell me the truth. Why are you, Donald and Douglas being so vague? What's the big deal? It can't be that bad. We are friends, aren't we? And friends shouldn't keep secrets from each other."

Duck walls finally fell. "Oh, alright! I'll tell you."

Duck took a double take to make sure that no other engines were around to hear him spill the beans.

"You see, there are three 'verra wee engines' who bring ballast down from a mine located near their railway up in northern Sodor. Their names are Rex, Mike and Bert. They're all small tender engines, smaller than the Skarloey engines. Even their drivers are taller than their cabs when they're sitting down. Rex is green, like you and Henry, Mike is red like James and Bert is blue like Gordon. I met them all today and they told me all about their railway. The Arlesdale Railway or as they like to call it, The Small Railway."

"Ah, I see now," Great Northern chuckled. "These Rex, Mike and Bert fellows sound very queer, I must admit. But why all the secrecy then?"

"It's because they've asked me, Donald and Douglas to keep it that way. They say they like to keep themselves and their railway as sort of a myth and legend to the rest of the engines on Sodor. Like King Arthur and Santa Claus in a way too. Magical even."

Great Northern chuckled. "Magical, indeed."

Duck then had a serious expression his face. "Look, now that I've spilt the beans, please don't tell the others about the Arlesdale engines. I'd get an earful if those three knew I told you about them."

Great Northern gave Duck his classic Gresley wink. "Not to worry, Duck. The secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," Duck sighed in relief as he then returned to work, crossing tracks so he could then take Great Northern's coaches away.

As he was being freed, Great Northern made a mental note to himself to try and get himself up to Arlesburgh to meet these small engines of The Arlesdale Railway. However, he did have a couple of problems to think about as he left The Big Station.

Number one: He would need to take some empty trucks up to The Small Railway and then return with loaded ballast trucks to take back to The Shunting Yard. And if what he had heard was true from goods engines back during the days of the GNR/LNER and BR, ballast trucks were the worst kinds of trucks to handle. And number two: He had no idea if this new branchline could support his on weight all the way to Arlesburgh.

 _It's a miracle that Gordon even got to Brendam the way he did not long ago,_ Great Northern thought as he backed down into his berth at Tidmouth Sheds and decided to have a well-earned rest. _Oh, well. I guess I'll think of something._

Fortunately, an opportunity soon arose a couple of days later.

Late one evening, Great Northern was making his way through Knapford station when he noticed The Fat Controller with two men standing next to him on Platform 1. The first man he knew, it was Sir Peter Sam, The Thin Controller of the Skarloey Railway. But the other man was a rather tall gentleman who wore brown suit and tie along with a yellow vest with red-striped dark orange pants and brown leather shoes. He had never met or seen the third man before in his life. He wondered who he was.

The Fat Controller then waved to him and his crew to stop. "Ah, Great Northern, impeccable timing. I need some help."

"Whatever you need, sir, I am more than happy to help," Great Northern said readily.

"There's a good engine," The Fat Controller said proudly. "Now then, I need you to take myself and these two gentlemen north to Arlesburgh. We have something important to discuss."

"Oh, y-yes, sir. Of course, sir," Great Northern stuttered. "But, sir, there's just one problem. Won't I be too heavy for this new branchline that heads up to Arlesburgh?"

"It's good thing that I made sure to have this new branchline to be reinforced for an engine of your power class just in case. Now then, if you could fetch a brakevan for the three of us, I would be most grateful."

"Of course, sir. Er, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Pardon me, sir, if I am overstepping my boundaries, but I only recognise one of those gentlemen with you. Sir Peter Sam the Thin Controller of The Skarloey Railway. But who is the other man?"

The Fat Controller began to chuckle. "Why, I'm glad you asked." The tall man then walked up next to The Fat Controller. "Great Northern, I'd like for you to meet Mr. Fergus Duncan. The new general manager of the Arlesdale Railway."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Great Northern," Fergus Duncan said, bowing slightly. "I am the new manager of the Arlesdale Railway. But my engines tend to call me The Small Controller, much like Sir Charles and Sir Peter here."

Great Northern grinned. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, sir. I can't believe you're the controller of the 'verra wee engines' I've heard about. Can I meet your engines from your railway, sir?"

"Why, of course!" The Small Controller laughed. "I can't wait to see the look on Rex, Mike and Bert's faces when they see their first really big engine."

"And I can't wait to meet my first really small engine too," Great Northern chortled as he then hurried away to find a brakevan for himself and the three controllers.

When he did arrive at the station of Arlesburgh West, Great Northern was very surprised. He saw what was called a ballast chute. It was like a large green tunnel made out of steel girders. Ontop of it stood some very queer looking trucks with 'Arlesdale' written in white on the sides of the trucks.

It was then he noticed some sort of platforms with tracks on them that seemed to be raised about as high as his coupling rods. He spied a turntable, a shed, a shunting yard and some very strange looking coaches. Then, once he came to a stop, he saw three small tender engines idling together on their own tracks. One was green, one was red and the last was blue. Great Northern couldn't help but laugh as he came to a stop.

"So, you three are the 'verra wee engines' then, eh?" he chuckled. "Rex, Mike and Bert, I presume?"

Mike, the small red engine gasped. "How did you know our names? Did one of those other three big engines tell you who we are?"

Thankfully, Great Northern had an excuse as to save Duck any strife with these engines.

"Actually, I know about you thanks to your Small Controller, Mr. Duncan. Although, I have heard the rumours from Donald and Douglas too."

Mike grumbled. "Oh, brilliant! Now we're going to be known in no time!"

"Heh, at least he hasn't called you a pillar box yet," Rex, the small green engine remarked cheekily.

"Why, you! You-"

"That's enough of that," Bert, the small blue engine cut in. "Rex, Mike, remember your manners." Bert looked Great Northern. "I'm Bert, pleased to meet you... uh..." then he spied the A1's nameplates. "Ah! Great Northern! Pleased to meet you, Great Northern."

"Likewise, Bert," Great Northern replied in kind. "Pleased to meet you as well, Rex, Mike."

Rex and Mike grinned sheepishly.

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, nice to meet you."

Great Northern then decided to change the topic to keep a conversation going. "So, I hear you lads are the ones bringing ballast down from the hills north of here, is that right?"

"Right, indeed!" Rex said proudly. "We're the ones who bring the ballast down here to Arlesburgh West in our ballast trucks up on the chute, you see? We push our trucks onto the chute with your big railway trucks placed underneath. The bottoms of our trucks slide open and the ballast pours into your big trucks. That's how Donald, Douglas and Duck have brought all that ballast down to your railway."

Great Northern was most impressed. "How clever. Very clever, indeed."

"We might be small," said Bert. "But we are very efficient. So, have you seen our coaches?"

Great Northern looked around. "Er... where?"

"Over there, in the sidings behind us," Bert continued as Great Northern found a few covered and non-covered Small Railway coaches close by in a siding. The non-covered coaches looked very similar to trucks.

"Well, uh... they certainly don't look our coaches on the North-Western."

Bert smiled knowingly. "I agree. They may look like trucks, but they behave surprisingly well. If you treat them right, they'll treat you right. Besides, the passengers like them all the same. They can see all the scenery, you know. Trees, mountains and such. Can't understand it myself, but then again, passengers are queer. As are our coaches."

"Says you, Bert," Mike put in rudely. "Give me trucks any day."

Great Northern was surprised. "You... like pulling trucks, Mike?"

"Not all of them," Mike smiled. "But our ballast hoppers are different, they run on bogies as sweetly as any coach. Minus the fuss of the passengers, mind you. Anyway, we take our hoppers down to the old mines, fill 'em up with ballast and bring them back down here to the chute."

After another short conversation, Great Northern thought about something, something that he realised after chatting with the small engines.

"If you three are all up here. Then how come neither myself or the other engines heard anything about you coming to Sodor?"

"We've only just come from our railway in Wales which closed," said Bert.

"Your Fat Controller asked us to come and fetch ballast for him and The Thin Controller," added Mike.

"And he said he'd bring us plenty of passengers too," Rex cut in. "We can't wait to get to work with them."

Great Northern was surprised. "Haven't you had passengers before?"

"Only in Wales," Bert replied. "It's our first season here."

"Oh!" Great Northern smiled, now understanding what had happened. "Well then, I'll be sure to bring plenty of passengers for you all from the Mainland."

The Small Engines were delighted. "Oh, thank you!" they cheered. "Thank you so much!"

And with that, Great Northern departed with The Fat and Thin Controller in his brakevan once more, heading back to The Big Station as he bid Rex, Mike, Bert and The Small Controller goodbye, eager to meet them all once again.

A few months later, it was a new year, 1967, one that was not a good year for steam on British Railways. Steam engines were being withdrawn in droves and were mercilessly scrapped while diesels took over the Mainland. Gordon had only gotten word of how bad it was beyond Barrow and felt rather down one day at Tidmouth Sheds.

"I'm not happy," Gordon complained to the others that morning.

"Your firebox is out of order," said James. "No wonder after all of that coal you had yesterday."

"Hard work brings good appetite," Gordon snapped defensively. "You, Little James, wouldn't understand."

"I know!" Duck put in brightly. "It's boiler ache, isn't it? I warned you about that stand pipe on The Other Railway. But you drank gallons of it."

"I don't have boiler ache!" Gordon protested. "It's-"

"Of course, it is!" laughed Henry. "That water is bad. It fills up your tubes, your boiler must be filled with sludge. Have a good washout, and you'll feel a different engine."

Gordon was fed up. "Don't be vulgar!"

And he left the sheds angrily for Knapford.

Emily sighed, watching as Gordon left. "I wonder what's got Gordon down? If only the others had let him speak and tell them what was wrong."

"I think I know what it is," Great Northern said sadly. "I'll talk to Gordon at The Big Station to confirm my suspicions."

He then moved onto the turntable after having his stopping passenger head-code placed on his smokebox iron lamp before proceeding out of sheds towards Knapford, following Gordon to the station.

Gordon backed down on the Wild Nor' Wester at Platform 1 of Knapford, he hissed mournfully. "Dear, oh, dear..."

"Cheer up, Gordon!" said The Fat Controller, appearing on the platform next to him.

"I can't, sir," Gordon moaned. "The others say I've got boiler ache, but I don't, sir. I keep thinking about the dreadful state of the world, sir. Is it true, sir? What the diesels on the Mainland say?"

The Fat Controller cocked any eyebrow. "What do they say?"

Gordon could barely speak for a moment. "T-They boast that they have... a... abolished steam, sir."

The Fat Controller sighed, looking down at the ground for a moment. "Yes, Gordon. It is true."

"Why, sir? All of my Doncaster siblings aside from Great Northern, are they all gone? Drawn at the same time as me?"

"All gone I'm afraid. Except one."

Gordon then saw Great Northern back down to his train next to him at Platform 2. Great Northern had heard everything Gordon and The Fat Controller had said, confirming his suspicions.

"Great Northern! Do you know which one of our siblings has been survived from scrap aside from you? Victor Wild? Sir Frederick Bransbury? Flying Fox?"

"Gordon, I..." Great Northern began but as cut off by Gordon's desperate pleas.

"Please don't tell me they withdrew and scrapped Pretty Polly. Oh, not our little Polly! Oh, our poor, poor Polly!"

"Gordon," Great Northern interrupted, his tone stern and grave. "While I don't know which one of our siblings has survived, I can confirm that what Sir Charles has told you is true. British Railways has pretty much abolished steam together on the Mainland all but unofficially. Many steam engines are in withdrawal sidings and scrapyards now, many of which are in Wales. Even our own Doncaster is a scrapyard now too. That's where Sir Charles found me."

Gordon said nothing as he looked back to Great Northern, a betrayed expression on his face. "Why didn't you tell me that it was all so bad on the Mainland before?"

"Because I wanted to protect you from acting as you are now," Great Northern answered him. "Gordon, don't get me wrong, I feel just as sad and guilty as you are. But there's nothing we can do to fix this. All we can do now is continue on and live our own lives the way our siblings and our friends would want us to live. I know for a fact they wouldn't want us to be moping about and wasting our lives being depressed." Gordon scrunched his face, not liking what his brother had said, but he couldn't argue with him. "I'm sorry, Gordon. But they're gone, and that's it. There's nothing we can do."

"Yes, I... I suppose... you're right..." Gordon sighed glumly, pulling out of the station as the guard blew his whistle so the express could leave. "There's nothing we can do..."

Great Northern watched with The Fat Controller as Gordon trundled away sadly. "Sir? Was I too harsh, do you think?" Great Northern asked.

"No," The Fat Controller replied, sighing. "Your words were harsh, but true, Great Northern. And your words were filled with wisdom as well."

"What about our last sibling, sir? Do you know who is still alive? Are they withdrawn?"

"He was withdrawn, but is now preserved," The Fat Controller said, fingering his chin thoughtfully. "Poor old Gordon. I wonder if I could... Yes, I'll ask his owner at once."

"Owner?" Great Northern repeated. "Who's owner, sir? And to whom does this owner own?"

Unfortunately for Great Northern, he wouldn't get his question answered as The Fat Controller let for his office as he was then given clearance to leave with his local train. Soon, the arrangements by The Fat Controller took time, but one evening at Tidmouth Sheds, Gordon's driver ran back excited to him and Great Northern who were alone in the sheds at the time.

"Wake up, you two!" he called. "The Fat Controller's given you both a surprise! Look!"

Gordon and Great Northern could hardly believe it. Backing down next to them were two massive green LNER corridor tenders and the engine's shape was very much like their own.

"It's... It's... Flying Scotsman!" Great Northern gasped, delighted to see his A3 brother.

"The Fat Controller's brought Flying Scotsman to see us!" Gordon cheered. "Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!"

Gordon and Great Northern's toots of joy were drowned out by Flying Scotsman's as he drew happily alongside his brothers. Next day in the sidings at the sheds, the three engines were photographed together. The Gresley A0, the first Gresley A1 and the most famous Gresley engine, Flying Scotsman the A3.

"Well, Gordon, you've changed a lot," Flying Scotsman smiled. "And not just to your new blue with red stripes livery either. A Fowler tender and caprotti valve gear? What would our builder say?"

Gordon chuckled. "I was sent to Crewe after an accident I had on my hill. They didn't do a Doncaster job, of course. But it serves all the same."

"I had a rebuild too, and looked hideous. But Mr. Pegler said I was an extra special engine and gave me back my proper shape. Banjo dome and single chimney once more along with my apple-green livery. I can't tell you how much I hated my BR Brunswick green and German smoke deflectors. Made me and our siblings look like continental engines."

"Well, you certainly weren't as hideous as me back then," Great Northern chuckled. "At least you and the rest our siblings could work properly."

"Indeed, we did!" Flying Scotsman laughed. "But I must say, Great Northern, you look absolutely marvellous back in your old shape with GNR livery. You look as young as ever. I say, were you sent to Crewe as well like Gordon here?"

"Not at all," Great Northern said proudly. "I was rebuilt completely here on Sodor. At the Steamworks of Crovan's Gate. They had me rebuilt in only two years. While Crewe may not do a Doncaster job, Crovan's Gate certainly does so, if not better."

Flying Scotsman was delighted. "Oh, I am so pleased to hear that. A true and proper railway that cares for their engines. No matter what traction. This railway of yours really is special."

"Speaking of special," Gordon cut in. "Is that why you have two tenders now? Being special?"

"No," Flying Scotsman chortled. "You'd hardly believe it, Gordon, but over _there_ they've hardly any coal and water."

Gordon gasped. "But surely, any proper railway-"

"Exactly. You are both lucky, Gordon, Great Northern, to have a controller who knows how to run railways."

"In my mind, The Fat Controller, is the best controller there is," Great Northern smiled as the three brothers all laughed and continued to talk while having their pictures taken.

For the rest of the morning, the Doncaster trio talked endlessly to each other about the old days of the LNER and their own stories. Gordon talked about the time he helped James when he was stuck in the mud and his experiences with his express. Scotsman talked about the single event that made him famous internationally, his non-stop run from King's Cross, London, to Wakerley, Scotland. Great Northern told them his own stories back on the LNER and even some of his most perilous times as the Thompson A1/1, but one of his best runs was his last from Doncaster to King's Cross before being withdrawn.

In the meantime, while the other engines of the railway liked Flying Scotsman very much, there was an exception who came in the form of Henry. The green Black-Five was jealous. He couldn't wrap his smokebox around how Scotsman acquired two tenders for himself. He wished he had two tenders of his own as well.

"Tenders are a mark of distinction," he complained. "Everybody knows that. How come he gets to have two?"

"He's famous, laddie," Donald explained. "He was the first engine to officially run 100 miles an hour. Besides, the Other Railway doesn't have that much water or coal for us steam engines nowadays."

Henry sniffed. "I can't believe that. I never boast," he continued. "But I always work hard enough for two. I deserve another tender for that."

Duck whispered something to Donald.

"Henry?" he asked, innocently. "Would you like my tenders?"

"Yours?!" Henry exclaimed. "What have you got to do with tenders? You're a tank engine!"

Duck just grinned. "Alright then, the deals off. Would you like them, Donald? I brought them with me all the way from The Western Region, don't you know?"

"I wouldnae deprive ye of the honour, Duck."

"It is a great honour. But Henry's right, I am only a tank engine. So, I don't really understand tenders myself. Perhaps James might-"

Henry then cut in. "I'm, uh... sorry if I was rude," he said. "How many tenders do you have and when can I have them?"

"Six! And you can have them this evening."

"Six lovely tenders!" Henry chortled. "What a splendid sight I will be! That'll show those Gresley engines the kind of engine I am."

Henry was very excited. "Are you sure it'll be alright, Duck?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

"Of course!" laughed Duck. "Just go where I told you and they'll be ready."

Later that evening, word had gone around about Henry and his tenders. The others, including Gordon, Great Northern and Scotsman all gathered in the yard where they could get a good view. Henry was cheerily echoed when he came, but he wasn't the splendid sight. It had six tenders, yes. But they were old and very dirty and top it all off, all were filled with boiler sludge.

"Had a good wash out, Henry?" a voice called out. "That's right, you'll feel a different engine now!"

Henry wasn't sure from whom the voice came from, but he thought that the voice was Gordon's.


	8. Chapter 8

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 8

 **Super Rescues**

It had been a rather nice morning for Great Northern, pulling into Vicarstown Station with his now terminated express passenger train. He watched as the passengers all disembarked and waved goodbye to him, thanking him for another lovely journey. The Gresley A1 had been a good mood as of late. Seeing Flying Scotsman and talking with him again had certainly lifted his spirits, as was the same with Gordon. He had also gotten a good kick out of how Duck had tricked Henry with his six tenders. However, Great Northern was sympathetic with Henry and comforted him after ditching the tenders in The Shunting Yards, asking whether or not the green engine had learnt a lesson in humility.

And indeed, Henry did.

As he waited for clearance to retire to the station sheds for a rest, Great Northern could hear the bridge between Sodor and the Mainland being lowered. Great Northern was confused. Had BoCo left with a late-night train to the Mainland last night and was returning now? Just then, he saw two blue and yellow diesels come to a stop at the station platforms nearby. One of them was a Class 46 Peak diesel while the other was a Class 35 Hymek diesel. Great Northern greeted them warmly, hoping they were like BoCo the first time he met him at Barrow two years ago.

"Hello there," he said. "Welcome to the North-Western Railway of Sodor, I'm Great Northern and-"

"Did I say you could greet us, steamer?" the peak diesel asked rudely.

Great Northern was stunned. "I beg your pardon!"

"Beg all you like, you're not going to get it."

"D199!" the hymek diesel scolded. "There's no need for you to act so rude!"

"I am not being rude, 7101," D199 persisted. "This steam kettle presumed that he could talk to an engine such as myself without permission. Steam engines like him should know his place."

Great Northern was speechless. He knew there were some rude diesels out there, but he had never expected one to be so extreme as D199 in front of him. Why, he even recalled that most of the diesels on the Eastern and North-Eastern Region were rather considerate, all until some of the newer diesels arrived and thought how more modern and reliable they were than the steam engines of old like him.

"I do know my place, thank you very much," Great Northern said in a stern tone. "My place is here on this railway, young one. And you'd best leave that superiority complex back where you found it. The other engines here won't like it and won't stand for it. And I certainly won't stand for it either. Neither will our controller. Besides, you have to work your way from the bottom and prove yourself here. We do not judge engines by their traction, only the content of their character."

D199 scoffed. "'Content of character'? Pah! You really are behind the times, old timer. Just you wait and see, I'll show that we diesels are far more reliable and up to date than you lot."

With that, D199 oiled away, leaving Great Northern and D7101 at the station. Great Northern looked to D7101 who seemed very ashamed and quite embarrassed by the actions of his compatriot. Great Northern had heard of these kinds of diesels before, they were from The Western Region and were hydraulic diesels, unlike that of D199. Great Northern was just glad this diesel had a sense of manners and respect.

"I'm sorry about D199," the hymek said to Great Northern. "He's been like this ever since I met up with him at Derby before arriving here on your railway. We're both on trial and I was scared he was going to start causing trouble. Again, I'm sorry."

Great Northern smiled at the down-trodden young diesel. "That's quite alright. I'm just glad to know that you know better. So, tell me, 7101, do you have a name?"

7101 looked down at his buffers meekly. "No, I don't have a name. I'm the last of my class and no one has ever given me a name." Just then his engine roared for a moment before he calmed it back down once more. "Sorry about my engine, it tends to purr a bit."

Great Northern snickered. "Purr? Don't you mean roar?"

7101 flushed, embarrassed. "I... I never really thought it was that loud. No other engine has ever really complained about it before."

"That's because you've been surrounded by engines who are no doubt like you," Great Northern explained. "But that's quite alright. I must admit though, the way your engine roars, it makes you sound like a bear."

"A bear?" 7101 asked, chuckling. "You know, I've never thought about it that way." 7101 then spied the A1's nameplates. "So, uh... you're Great Northern? As in _the_ Great Northern?"

"I am indeed," Great Northern answered, smiling. "Why do you ask? Do you know of me?"

"Well, yes. You see, my mentor, Pendennis Castle always spoke highly of you back on The Western Region. He said that you were one of his best friends back during the old days of The Big Four."

Great Northern's jaw dropped. "You... You know Pendennis Castle?"

"Yes, I do," 7101 replied. "Or, at least I did. Pendennis was withdrawn in 1964 but was preserved in the same year by the Great Western Preservation Society and was moved to the railway depot in Didcot. I've heard that's where he is right now. What's going to happen to him, I can't say for sure."

Great Northern was absolutely delighted. He was so happy to learn that his old friend from the GWR wasn't scrapped and was now living a preserved life like himself. Not only that, but he had also met a young diesel protégé of Pendennis Castle and was eager to get to know 7101 better. For the next little while, the two engines traded stories together, some about Pendennis Castle until 7101 was given clearance to leave.

"Oh, just to let you know," Great Northern called out as 7101 began to leave. "We have two diesels here on Sodor already. Their names are BoCo and Daisy, you should introduce yourself to them and get acquainted. I'm sure they'll like you."

"I'll make sure to do that. Goodbye!" 7101 shouted, tooting his horn.

"Goodbye!" Great Northern called back, blowing his whistle before leaving the station to rest.

That night at the sheds, the engines were talking amongst themselves as usual. Flying Scotsman led the conversation, talking about his experience at the British Empire Exhibition where he had first met Pendennis Castle. There was also an N Class steam engine, No. 866 from the Southern Railway, along with two engines who represented the newly made LMS. A ten-wheeler LNWR _Prince of Wales_ class and a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway designed Baltic tank engine built by the LMS at Horwich Works.

"Even the Metropolitan Railway showed off an engine of their design," Scotsman continued. "They showed off one of their Inner Circle cars which is like a trailer which had been built in the same year I was first built at Doncaster."

As Scotsman recalled his tale to the other engines, D199 and D7101 backed down into their own berths of the sheds. As Flying Scotsman continued to talk, the two diesels surveyed the sheds.

"It's time, 7101," said D199. "That we took this railway over."

Silence immediately fell over the sheds, glares and daggers were shot at the diesels. D199 looked stuck-up and snooty while D7101 was quick to admonish.

"Shush, 199! It's their railway after all."

"Not for long," 199 persisted, he looked over to the other engines. "Our controller says that steam engines spoil our image."

"Of course, we do!" Duck snapped. "We show what frauds you are. Call yourselves engines? If anything happens to you, you care nothing for your train and moan for a fitter. We bring it home, even on one cylinder."

"Nothing," boasted 199, "ever happens to us. _We_ , unlike you lot, are reliable." Vulgar noises or insults and whistle blowing greeted this. "How rude," said 199.

"You asked for it," 7101 growled. "Now, shut up!"

The sheds fell silent again, the steam engines were all taken aback by 7101 telling off the now mockingly called 'Old Reliable'. Nothing more was said by the engines for the rest of the night. When morning came, Great Northern and 7101 were left in the sheds. The poor hymek looked even more down after what had happened.

"Again, I'm really sorry about 199," he sighed. "I tried speaking to him before we came to the sheds last night, but he just wouldn't listen."

"That's alright, chap," Great Northern assured. "Sometimes, engines are just too far gone to listen. By the way, did you happen to meet BoCo and Daisy yesterday?"

7101 beamed. "Oh, yes! I did. They met them both at Elsbridge. They're both very nice and they helped me with some questions I had about this island and railway." Then he exhaled deeply. "I really hope I pass my trial here. But knowing my luck, 199 could ruin it for me and make me look bad in front of the other engines too."

"Now, now, no need to act so pessimistic," Great Northern said. "If it helps, I'll put in a good word for you with The Fat Controller. All I ask is for you to do the best you can here on this railway. That's all we ever ask."

"Then I'll be sure to do so," 7101 grinned again. "Now, uh, if you'll excuse, I've got my first passenger train to run."

And with that, 7101 left the station with Great Northern trailing behind.

Later that afternoon, Henry was rolling home tender first. He was feeling very down, almost as down as he was back in his old hybrid shape long ago.

 _I'm a failed engine,_ he thought. _Lost my regulator, driver says it jammed wide open and he can't mend it until I'm cool again. However, I've got steam and driver can use my reverser, but it would happen after Duck fooled me with those blasted tenders. Now they'll all laugh at me again._

Soon, Henry reached a signal-box and stopped, whistling for a road. Opposite the box, on the up-line, stood D199 with a train of oil tankers.

 _Oh, great. Worse and worse,_ Henry thought drearily. _Now 'Old Reliable' will laugh at me too._

Just then, the signalman came out. "For pity's sake, take this spamcan away! It's failed and the Limited is behind now thanks to him. And all he does it wail for his fitter!"

"Spamcan?!" D199 fumed angrily. "I'm-"

"Stow it!" snapped the signalman. "Or I'll take my tin opener to you! Now then..."

199 subsided at this dreadful threat, and Henry pulled the train out of the way. The diesel didn't help, he just sulked. The Limited, being pulled by 7101, rushed by a growl and a roar. Henry gave a chuckle.

"Look there, Spamcan," he said. "There's your little pal."

D199 said nothing, hoping 7101 hadn't noticed. 7101 hadn't noticed, because he was having troubles of his own. He was getting crosser and crosser with his coaches. They felt as though they were getting heavier by every wheel turn he made. He roared at them to move, but it did no good.

Engines have a pump called in injector, it draws air of the train's brakes pipes to keep the brakes off. If it fails, air leaks in and the brakes come on. Gently at first, then harder and harder. Unfortunately for 7101, his injector had failed. His brakes were already leaking on as he passed Henry. He struggled on for half a mile before being brought to stand, growling furiously unable to move a wheel under his own power.

"Well, well, well, did ya hear what the signalman said?" Henry's fireman asked.

"I'd thought they'd be laughing at me!" Henry chuckled. "Now the jokes on them."

"Moving two dead engines and their trains? his driver said thoughtfully. "That's no joke for a failed engine, is it? Do you think you can do it, old boy?"

"I'll have a good try!" said Henry with spirit. "Anyway, 7101's much better than old Spamcan here. He did try to shut him up last night, and Great Northern speaks highly of him too."

"Come on then, old boy," coached his driver. "We mustn't keep our passengers waiting."

"Get moving you!" Henry puffed as he pulled the sulking Class 46 into the motion and started to the rescue.

Henry gently buffered up to The Limited Express train. While the two drivers talked, his fireman join his front brake-pipe to the last coaches.

"It's better than we thought, Henry," said the driver. "7101 call pull in front if we keep the brakes off. So, the only weight we'll really have is Spamcan and his goods."

"Oh," Henry said in relief. "That's quite a mercy." He was, by now, feeling rather puffed.

"Poop, poop, poop, poop!" 7101 tooted. "Are you ready?"

"Peep, peep, peep, peep!" whistled Henry. "Yes, I am!"

So, with 7101 growling in front with his train, and Henry gamely puffing in the middle, the long cavalcade set out of the next big station. At Crovan's Gate, Donald and Flying Scotsman were waiting in the sidings. They both cheered as Henry puffed past. He braked the coaches on the train thankfully as Spamcan with the oil tankers trailed far behind. Once they got to the station, the passengers all buzzed out like angry bees. Thankfully, the Fat Controller told them about Henry. So, they forgot to be cross and thanked Henry instead.

They called him an enterprising engine and took his photograph.

They were thrilled too, when Flying Scotsman backed down on their train. If the guard hadn't tactfully shooed them to their coaches, the train would have started later than ever. In the meantime, Donald took the goods train after backing down in front of D199

The Fat Controller spoke severely to D199.

"So, I asked British Rail to lend me some engines, and as it turns out both of them are failed. However, in your case, D199, you are far worse. I have had nothing but complaints about you from my fleet and not only that, but you have caused confusion and delay as well as conflict between my engines." He turned to the Donald. "Send D199 back to The Other Railway. I shall write my views about him later," he told Donald as the Caledonian twin started away.

Henry and 7101 went away together as The Fat Controller had told Henry to take the hymek to a building that had been built close by to Vicarstown. 7101 felt very glum, now that D199 was gone, he thought for sure that he was going to be sent away too. He spoke to Henry.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night."

"That's alright," Henry smiled. "You did shut 'Old Reliable' up."

"And," 7101 sighed ruefully, "made a fool of myself too."

Henry just grinned. "Rubbish. A failed injector could happen to any engine. In fact, I lost my regulator today."

7101 was surprised. "You? Failed?! And yet..." his voice trailed away with admiration.

"Well..." said Henry, chortling. "Emergency, you know? Trains must get through."

7101 said no more, he had a lot to think about. Eventually, the hymek diesel was shunted away into a new depot which had the sign saying 'Vicarstown Dieselworks' on the gate out front. He was said to see Henry leave, but now awaited his fate of which he knew would have him being sent away in disgrace. Soon, he saw another familiar looking green engine puff into the yards of the Dieselworks.

"Great Northern?" 7101 asked, squinting his eyes at the A1. "What are you doing here?"

"I have an important guest here to see you, chap," Great Northern said as The Fat Controller stepped down from his cab.

7101 gulped. "H-Hello, sir... I-I'm sorry about what happened today. I understand if you want to send me away back to British Rail."

"7101," The Fat Controller began. "I have been told by both Great Northern and Henry that you are a good diesel like Daisy and BoCo. I hear you're very cooperative."

7101 was surprised to hear this as he looked over to Great Northern he was smiling at him before looking back to The Fat Controller. "Do they, sir? Truly?"

"They do, indeed," The Fat Controller. "After his behaviour and how he has acted today, I have sent D199 back to the Mainland. I hope you won't miss him."

"To be honest, sir," 7101 sighed. "I never really liked him when I first met him anyway."

"Good. Because, with great consideration, I would like you to officially join my fleet and stay on the North-Western Railway."

7101 was gobsmacked. "But, sir! I... I don't know what to say! I failed on my second day here on my trial!"

"Yes, I considered that," The Fat Controller nodded thoughtfully. "But have Great Northern and Henry told you their stories?"

7101 looked over to Great Northern, wondering what his story had been, as well as Henry. "Umm, no, sir."

"I see. Well, Henry used to be a very bad steamer in his younger years since he used to be a cross between a C1 Atlantic and A1 Pacific. Because of this, his firebox was small, and he couldn't make up enough steam. Eventually though, after a nasty accident, my father sent him away to crew to be rebuilt into his Stanier Class 5 build which he is now. As for Great Northern, during most of time on British Railways, he was Thompson A1/1 and had many problems overall with his build at the time. However, I saved him from being scrapped and restored him back to his real glory as the first Gresley A1 of the Great Northern Railway and the London and North-Eastern Railway. Now, Great Northern and Henry are two my best engines here on Sodor. And you, 7101, a hard worker as well."

7101 beamed. "Thank you, sir!"

"Of course. Now then, what colour would you like to be? We've got quite a few here."

7101 looked at the paint pots scattered around the Dieselworks as he thought about the livery he wanted to always wear, then he thought about putting the railway in front of his wants.

"Sir, what's your cheapest livery?"

"Don't worry about that. I want you to have fresh start, any livery you like."

"Well... I did always like the livery some of my brothers had on The Western Region. BR green with white cab frames and a yellow warning panels. Could you do that, sir?

"I shall make the arrangements."

"Sir?" Great Northern chimed in. "I think we're forgetting something."

The Fat Controller stopped in his tracks. "We are? Oh, yes!" he turned back to 7101. "7101, what name would you like to have?"

7101 was stunned. "A name? Sir, to be frank, I have no idea where to begin."

"Why not Bear?" Great Northern cut in. "It suits you and how your engine tends to growl at times. Even Henry says that you growled when you passed him by."

"Well, 7101, what do you say?" The Fat Controller asked, hands behind his back. "Would you like to be called Bear?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" 7101 exclaimed happily. "I'd love to have a real name like that. It's much better than having a number, having a name means that you really belong."

Great Northern blew his whistle happily. "I couldn't agree more! Welcome to the fleet, Bear!"

"Indeed," The Fat Controller smiled. "Now, I'll make the necessary arrangements to buy you from British Rail and add you to my fleet. I have the utmost confidence that you will indeed be a fine investment in my railway."

"Thank you, sir! I will be," Bear said as The Fat Controller made his way back to Great Northern. "And thank you, Great Northern. For everything. Please thank Henry me as well."

Great Northern gave the hymek wink. "Not a problem, chap. And I'll let Henry know too."

Word soon spread around of D199's banishment as well as Bear's acceptance into the railway. At the Shunting Yards, Donald and Douglas were talking to each other after the super rescue Henry had done with the two diesels. The twins laughed endlessly at the part where the signalman threatened D199 by taking his tin opener to him. Then they talked about a more serious matter.

"I heard that The Fat Controller has brought that yon' diesel into the fleet," Donald told his brother.

"Ye mean that 7101 fella?" Douglas asked.

"Aye. Apparently, his name is Bear noo."

Douglas laughed. "First Duck and now Bear! Whatever next? Cat? Dog?"

"Or maybe Bunny Rabbit!" Donald hooted as they laughed again. "Seriously though, how do ye feel aboot this new diesel joinin' our fleet, Douggie?"

"If I'm bein' honest, I dinnae really like it when another diesel comes to this railway. I keep thinkin' they're all gonna take our jobs away from us. Just like in Scotland."

"Aye," Donald agreed cautiously. "But remember what happened with Daisy and BoCo? They're nice diesels."

"I was just going to say that too. And from what Henry said, Bear was far better than Spamcan in the first place. He did shut Spamcan up that one night, remember?"

"I remember. I think we should give Bear a chance, unlike we did with BoCo. Dinnae want a repeat with what happened with Great Northern, eh?"

"Och, I certainly don't want any steam blown in my face after what Great Northern did to us that day."

"Did you two just say my name?" The twins almost jumped as their wheels shook nervously. Great Northern had suddenly appeared next to them, seemingly out of nowhere. "You two wouldn't be talking about Bear, now would you?"

"B-Bear?" Donald asked with a nervous smile. "Y-Ye mean that hymek diesel, right? No. No, we weren't!"

"Actually, we were," Douglas said, much to Donald's chagrin as Great Northern cocked an eyebrow and got ready to tell them off. "And before ye say anythin', Donnie and I were just sayin' that we should give yon' Bear a chance, unlike what we did with BoCo. We're really trying to give new diesels here on our railway a chance, Great Northern. Really, we are."

Great Northern stared at the twins, his eyes looking as though they stared right through their boilers. "Alright then, I believe you," he said finally, a sigh of relief followed by the twins. "I'm glad to hear that you have changed for the better. And just so you know, Bear is a good diesel. I can assure you of that. But, if you ever treat Bear wrong, steam in your face will be the last thing you two will worry about."

Great Northern then left for the station, acting as if he had never made the threat towards the Caledonian twins beforehand. The twins were both nervous and scared of what Great Northern might do should they mess up, but most of all, they were just relieved he was gone for now.

Donald rolled his eyes. "Ugh. I'm tellin' ye, Douggie. That Great Northern is way too strict in me book. Acts as if there's stick up his vacuum pipe or somethin'."

"Great Northern is strict but fair," Douglas advised. "But he's like that with everyone." Douglas then sighed deeply. "Sorry, Donnie. But I'd better go and get my train shunted."

"Are ye headin' to Barrow for the night goods train?" Donald asked.

"Aye, and I'm not lookin' forward to it. It's the diesels unlike BoCo and Bear ye gotta watch oot for."

"Speakin' of BoCo, why isn't he takin' the night goods tonight?"

"I heard he's busy with the passenger work on Edward's Branchline, so it's up to me tonight. The Mainland ain't safe now, for any of us."

"And don't we know it?" Donald sighed as Douglas rolled away to sort out his goods train to Barrow.

Soon, Douglas was ready and left with his train to the Mainland. He arrived at Barrow right on time as expected. However, he and his crew were upset to learn that the station master wanted them to shunt their trucks away in the sidings. But they had no choice and got to work. But once Douglas was done shunting and was getting ready for his return journey, he could hear a faint _hissing_ noise.

 _That sounds like an engine,_ he thought. The _hiss_ came again. This time, it sounded almost despairing. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Are you a Fat Controller's engine?" inquired a voice, of which had a welsh accent.

"Aye, and proud of it."

"Thank goodness! I'm Oliver. My auto-coach, my brakevan and I are escaping to your railway. But we've run out of coal and we've no more steam."

Douglas was curious. "Is it from scrap yer escapin'?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be glad to help ye. But we must work fast!"

Both crews joined in. they took off Oliver's side rods, wrote out transit labels and chalked 'SCRAP' everywhere they could on the GWR 14xx, his auto-coach and his brakevan.

Douglas marshalled Oliver and his rolling stock in front of his train. "No time to turn around," he panted. "I'm goin' to run tender first."

"Yeehee! Yeehee!" a passing diesel ran by. "A steamer's escaping! Yoohoo!"

Douglas puffed firmly on. "Dinnae take no notice," he counselled Oliver.

But they were stopped before they could clear the station throat. The foreman's lamp shone on Oliver.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "A Great Western engine." His light flickered further back. "A western auto-coach and goods brakevan too. You can't take these."

"Can't we noo?" asked Douglas' driver. "They're all fer us. See for yourself."

Douglas' guard showed the foreman the labels and papers. Oliver's crew, hiding in the auto-coach, hardly dared to breath. The foreman glossed over the papers and the labels before looking back at Douglas' driver and the guard.

"Seems in order," he said. "But it's queer."

"Sure, it is," began the guard. "But I could tell ye queerer still."

"So, could I," the foreman interrupted. "Alright then, away, guard!"

And with that, Douglas, Oliver, his rolling stock and the rest of train and all made their way out of the station back towards Sodor.

"T'was a near thing," Douglas puffed thankfully.

"We've had worse," said Oliver. "We ran at night. Met friendly signalmen who would pass us from box to box when no trains were about. We got on well until Control heard about a mystery train on the line. Then they tried to hunt us down."

"What did ye do?"

"A signalman let us hide on an old quarry branch. My driver, fireman and guard blocked the cutting with rubbish and levered one of the approach rails away. We stayed there for days, with diesels baying and growling like hounds outside. I was very frightened then."

"Small blame to ye," said Douglas reassuringly.

Presently, they rumbled over the bridge towards Vicarstown and arrived on The North-Western Railway.

"We're home! They cannae catch you noo!"

Oliver was relieved. "Do tell Isabel and Toad, please."

Douglas called out the news and heard a joyful _tinga-linga-ling, tinga-linga-ling!_ He was surprised.

Oliver chuckled. "That's my auto-coach, Isabel. There's a bell on her, you see? She's clever. When we went out together, I pull one way and push the other. When I pull, I can see ahead. When I push, I can't. So, Isabel keeps a good look and rings her bell to talk to me."

Douglas was impressed. "Huh! You dinnae say! And aboot this Toad? Is he-"

"Hold ya wheesht!" his driver interrupted. "Beyond's the Steamworks, we dinnae want to be noticed! We'll slip in unbeknownst and find a place for Oliver here."

Douglas tried to be quiet, but the night foreman of the Steamworks heard them and told him their secret. "I know just the place," he said, and showed them an empty siding nicely hidden away. Oliver said "Goodbye" and "Thank you" as Douglas puffed away.

 _Yon's an enterprising engine,_ he thought. _I ran away here with Donnie, but I feared to ever do it on me own. I must talk to the others._

Douglas arrived back just in time to see Flying Scotsman take his enthusiasts home. The Fat Controller said they had all been honoured to have him on their railway. They thanked Flying Scotsman and his owner, Alan Pegler for their help.

"Please tell everyone," The Fat Controller went on. "That whatever happens elsewhere, steam will still have its work here. We shall welcome all who want to see and travel behind real engines."

This announcement was greeted with a caucus of cheers. And Flying Scotsman departed to the strains of, "Will ye no come back again". Lead as one might expect, by Donald and Douglas.

At last, once Flying Scotsman had left, he could tell the other engines his news. Douglas sat in front of Duck, James, Gordon, Great Northern, Donald and Emily on the turntable with the latters all sitting outside of their berth roads of the sheds. They were all very excited by news, and all agreed that something must be done for Oliver.

"I fear," said Donald, "that some muderin' diesel may creep in our railway, and Oliver there alone, lacking steam to even whistle for help."

"You're right," agreed James. "Oliver won't be safe until The Fat Controller knows."

"The sooner Sir Charles buys Oliver from British Rail, the better," added Emily.

"Let's just hope Sir Charles is in the buying mood," Great Northern replied cautiously. "However, I wouldn't be surprised if our railway has gotten some nice profits thanks to Flying Scotsman being here."

"Douglas should tell him at once," Gordon said firmly. "He brought Oliver here in the first place."

Douglas was worried. "Is it me who speak to The Fat Controller? It's forward, he'd think me. And me interfering."

"Well, here he is!" exclaimed a cheerful and familiar voice. "Now, what's all this about?"

Duck broke the awkward silence. "Beg pardon, sir. But we do need another engine."

"I agree, Duck. That is why I'm giving 7101 another chance."

The engines faces showed such dismay, that The Fat Controller had difficulty with his own.

"Sir?" Gordon ventured at last. "We had hoped for a steam engine."

"They," said The Fat Controller, "are rare. 'Less one escapes, there's little hope."

"But, sir!" Donald burst out. "One has!"

"Indeed, Donald. And thanks to Douglas, one is now at our Steamworks."

"Sir!" Douglas gasped. "Is there anything ye dinnae know?"

"More than you think," The Fat Controller laughed. "Oliver's crew told me all that you did, Douglas. You've done me very proud indeed."

Douglas blushed. "Och, sir. I couldnae see a poor, wee engine in trouble, and do no more than a wheel's turn."

"More than a wheel's turn, I fancy. Douglas, I am very pleased. Oliver, Isabel and Toad will soon be ours. Oliver and Isabel are just what we need for Duck's new branchline." Loud cheers greeted this announcement. "And Toad wants to be your brakevan, Douglas."

"Thank you, sir. I hoped for that. He and I will do brawly together."

That of course, made everything right. Henry and Great Northern spoke a good word for 7101 to the big engines and they gave him a warm welcome in return. The hymek had good manners for a start, so Henry and Great Northern didn't find it hard teaching him the ways of the NWR. Bear, as he is now called, finds them different from The Other Railway, but much more interesting.

He is also quite a useful engine now. He works well with passengers or goods trains, but he mostly prefers passenger trains, especially when he pulled The Limited. His also looks grand in his dark green livery with white window cabs and yellow warning panels. The others say he looks very smart indeed and is a credit to the railway.

However, they did tease him at first because of his growls. They said, ironically, that he sounded like a bear. He stills growls, but not because he's cross, but because he just can't help it. Bear's name has stuck and his likes it.

"It's much nicer than just a number," he tells the others. "Having a name means you really belong."

All of the engines absolutely agreed.

The Fat Controller had Oliver, Isabel and Toad mended and repainted in full Great Western colours. Then he rescued three more Western auto-coaches. Two, Alice and Mirabel who were painted GWR chocolate and cream, of whom he gave to Duck. And the third, Dulcie, painted GWR maroon, joined Oliver and Isabel.

Duck and Oliver are very happy on their branchline. It runs along the west coast of the island towards The Small Railway. "We re-open branches," the Westerners boast.

They're very proud of this indeed. The others laughed at first and called their branch 'The Little Western'.

Duck and Oliver were delighted.

And now, no one ever thinks of calling it anything else.


	9. Chapter 9

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 9

 **Déjà Vu**

Things were very different now on The North-Western Railway. With the introduction of The Little Western and The Small Railway. There had been quite the boost in not only freight, but passengers as well. During this time, The Fat Controller had built Duck and Oliver a new shed at their top station of Arlesburgh West, the same station which was shared by The Small Railway. However, it was clear from the outset that the two engines needed help, so Donald and Douglas soon relocated to the Arlesburgh sheds from Tidmouth.

The big engines were sad to see the Caledonians leave Tidmouth but were pleased to know that they would alternate their work between branchlines and the Mainline. However, with Duck gone, that left a problem.

The position of station pilot at Knapford was left empty once more.

Sometimes, both Duck and Oliver would help shunt the coaches into place for the big engines before leaving for their own work. But as of late, they were far too busy help. So, Percy had also been rostered back to help along with his jobs on Thomas' Branchline. But like before, Percy was quickly worn out thanks to what was demanded of him. The Fat Controller had little choice but to find a solution, and fast.

So, one early morning, The Fat Controller approached the big engines at Tidmouth Sheds as they were being steamed up for the day, while BoCo and Bear had their engines whirring and were waiting for their jobs to be assigned to them.

"Good morning, engines," said The Fat Controller.

"Good morning, sir!" came the usual reply.

"Now then, as you all know there has been quite the boom as of late in work overall. Especially with passenger trains. However, we have encountered a problem which will need a permanent solution."

"You mean a station pilot for Knapford, sir?" asked Emily.

"Indeed, Emily. I've spoken with British Rail and I have bought a new tank engine to the railway to work here as station pilot. Unfortunately, said engine in question will not be here for a week. So, in the meantime, I want all of you to chip in where you can to help Percy with the station piloting." He looked to Gordon, Henry and James. "I didn't put up your nonsense all those years ago and I certainly won't this time around. Understand?"

The three engines gulped and smiled nervously. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir," they said.

"Very good," he then turned his attention. "Great Northern, I'm sure I can expect you to pitch in with the shunting as well, can you not?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, I can-"

Great Northern stopped.

He then realised what The Fat Controller had said.

Suddenly, his right eye began to twitch. Memories flashed within his mind from decades ago. The engines all watched in surprise as Great Northern's face contorted angrily such a way they thought wasn't even possible. His face had even gone redder than James' boiler.

Sadly, for everyone, Edward asked him the dreaded question.

"Uh... Great Northern, are you alright?"

At this, Great Northern lost it.

"Shunt?! SHUNT?! YOU EXPECT ME TO SHUNT?!" he roared at The Fat Controller as the latter and the other engines were very taken aback. "You expect me to degrade myself once more to shunt and fetch coaches?! What then?! Shunt trucks?! Like... Like some shunter?! I will not have it! Do you hear me, Hatt?! I! WILL NOT! HAVE IT!"

Once his rant was over, Great Northern's heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard all over the sheds and yard. The engines were horrified. None of them had ever seen Great Northern act like this before. Actually, none of them had seen him be so angry before during his time on the railway. Normally, he was calm, collected, sensible, dignified, mature, as wise as Edward and was someone to ask for help and advice from. But after that outburst, he was anything but.

The Fat Controller, needless to say, was the most surprised and unpleased of all. He shot a quick glance at Gordon, Henry and James once more, making sure they weren't getting any ideas of sorts from Great Northern. Luckily, the three engines were smart enough to not try anything so stupid. The Fat Controller made his way over to Great Northern and glared at him sternly.

In a low voice, he was blunt and straight to the point. "You will do as you are told."

Great Northern said nothing in response. He just glared daggers at The Fat Controller as he made his way back to his office. Unfortunately for The Fat Controller, he couldn't afford to take his passenger engine off duty and leave him in the sheds. There were too many passengers that needed to be transported over the island.

So, as Percy helped as station pilot at Knapford, engines like Henry, James and Emily all put in to fetch their own coaches. By now, both Gordon and Great Northern were waiting at Platform 1 and 2 along with their passenger trains. Gordon was worried about his brother. He had never seen him act this way before. It even frightened him.

"Great Northern?" Gordon asked cautiously. "Is... something the matter?"

Great Northern glanced angrily at his brother. "Something is wrong? Oh, whatever gave it away, dear brother?"

Gordon frowned. "There's no need for you to act so rude to me and you don't need to be so sarcastic. Now tell me what's going on with you and why do you hate shunting so much?"

Great Northern continued to glare daggers at him. "If you, Gordon, my own brother, don't know what's got me so upset, then you don't deserve to know."

Gordon was speechless.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to make a reply as heard his guard's whistle blow as he pulled away with the Wild Nor' Wester. Great Northern's sudden bad attitude had really thrown him for a loop. He tried to think of something that could make his brother feel better, but he just couldn't think of anything.

For the rest of the day, Great Northern worked the same as he usually did. However, he didn't talk to anyone. When someone did try to talk to him, they were rudely cut off by him talking down to them or would watch as Great Northern left, ignoring them completely.

The next morning though, Great Northern was in a for rude surprise.

He backed down into Platform 1 of Knapford and was ready to take the Limited that morning. Bear had taken a late-night goods train to The Other Railway the previous night, so he wouldn't be back for a good while. But when Great Northern arrived, he saw that the Limited's blue express coaches were nowhere to be seen.

"Where are my coaches?" he said, looking all over the station. "And where is Percy? He should have my train ready!"

"Percy is taking a delivery of stone down to Knapford Harbour," came a familiar voice as The Fat Controller stepped out of his office and stood in front of Great Northern. "So, you will need to shunt your own train, Great Northern."

Great Northern was furious. "Shunt my own train?! But I have to go in a few minutes! I'll be late by the time I get turned around anyway! What kind of railway are you running?!"

"A railway where engines do as they are told," The Fat Controller replied in a low, stern voice. "And one way or another, you _will_ do as you are told. Now, if you get your coaches sooner, the later you won't be."

Great Northern grimaced and growled angrily as he puffed away to collect his coaches. Fuming at the thought of shunting like a tank engine again after almost a decade. As he expected, shunting the Limited's coaches into the station was slow process, in which he and his crew had to be careful when going tender first. And they were even later by the time he got turned around and backed down onto the train. Needless to say, once he did, Great Northern was in a foul mood indeed.

Thomas was waiting anxiously at Elsbridge Station with Annie and Clarabel. He had a guaranteed connection with the Limited and now he was running fifteen minutes late. Thomas hated being late, he felt his responsibilities on his branchline deeply, understanding how The Fat Controller relied on him.

"Come on, come on!" Thomas fretted. "What's taking the Limited so long?"

"Perhaps they were kept back at signal?" Annie suggested.

"Or maybe there were animals on the line?" said Clarabel.

"Well, whatever is going on, Great Northern better get here soon or I'll-"

Thomas was cut off by the sound of a whistle blaring off in the distance. Thomas, Annie and Clarabel watched as Great Northern pulled into the station with a great huff. He looked as though he was fit to burst and could snap at any moment. Unfortunately, Thomas was too upset at being kept behind to think of not escalating the situation.

"And just where have you been?!" he scoffed. "You're fifteen minutes late. Which means I'm fifteen minutes late! I have a right mind to-"

"Can it, you little, blue puff ball!" Great Northern shouted, angrily blowing steam all over the station platform. "First the Fat Controller makes me shunt my coaches like some common tank engine, and now I have to listen to your tripe?! And thanks to The Fat Controller's shenanigans, I'm going to have a burst a cylinder to get to Vicarstown on time at all today! The nerve of him, making me collect my own coaches like some little shunter! What's next? Make me run tender first with my express trains?! I might as well scrap my tender and get a bunker if that happens!"

He then saw that some of his passengers had transitioned over to Thomas' train as the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag.

"Don't you have a branchline to run? Trust a dawdling tank engine like you to keep me waiting even longer, making me later! Well, what are you waiting for? Go on!"

Thomas puffed angrily away from the station muttering, "He's not so different from Gordon after all..."

Soon enough, Thomas had arrived at Ffarquhar and had managed to gain back some time as he was now five minutes late instead of fifteen. While the passengers understood what had happened, Thomas was inconsolable at what Great Northern had said about him and tank engines in general. He felt very betrayed and bitter as he sat in a siding. Just then, Toby puffed into the yard with Henrietta and Elsie.

"Hello, Thomas," Toby said. "What's got you down?"

Thomas shot Toby a glance. "Toby, what do you think of Great Northern?"

"Great Northern?" Toby asked, as he smiled. "We both worked on the LNER together and it's great to have him on the railway. He might be Gordon's brother, but he's just as nice as Edward. And he's a good friend to boot."

Thomas just snorted. "Well, after what he said to me today, he's far more like Gordon and the big engines than I thought. He's just as rude and obnoxious as Gordon. He called me a blue puff ball and mocked us tank engines for being shunters, all because he had to shunt his own train today."

Toby was taken aback. "He really said that? But... this is Great Northern we're talking about. It doesn't make sense for him to say such a thing. Especially to us."

"Well, he did say it and he didn't look too sorry about it afterwards. He even told me to go on after my passengers had boarded my train, telling me that I was keeping him late when he was one keeping me late!"

"I see..." Toby sighed as Thomas continued to sulk. "Alright, how about this? I'm taking some stone trucks down to Wellsworth later on today. Hopefully, I can meet up with Great Northern there and can chat with him, so we can sort this all out."

"Best of luck..." Thomas muttered bitterly as he puffed away to the sheds.

Toby exhaled deeply. "Oh, dear... Great Northern, whatever you've done, you have no idea what kind of effect its having on other engines."

And indeed, Toby was right.

Wherever he had gone that day, Great Northern was irritable, snappy and short-tempered with any engine he happened to meet on his way to Vicarstown. Steam or diesel, it didn't matter which kind of traction. The engines either remained silent and confused at his outburst while others argued with him, further aggravating the A1 to no end.

Later, during midday, Toby was idling in a siding at Wellsworth when he saw Great Northern pull into the station with a local passenger train. Just as Toby had expected, Great Northern was in a very foul mood. He grumbled in a childish manner once he had come to a stop.

"Great Northern," Toby said, puffing forward.

Great Northern groaned. "Great, what now? I'm not in-" Great Northern stopped when he saw Toby nearby. "Oh! Hello, Toby. What brings you out here onto the Mainline?"

"You, I'm afraid," Toby replied gravely. "I spoke to Thomas up at Ffarquhar before and he seemed very hurt. He said that you were very rude to him after you were had to shunt your coaches this morning. I have also heard about your outburst yesterday as well. I must say, this isn't like you, Great Northern."

"Oh, pah!" Great Northern snorted. "Of course, you wouldn't understand! None of you, shunters do!"

Toby ignored the slight. "Then tell me what's going on? Why are you so adverse to shunting? No one here is going to tease you about it. Especially not after what happened to Gordon, James and Henry all those years ago. Great Northern, you're my friend and I'm telling you as your friend that Thomas feels betrayed by you because of what you've said this morning. And if what else I've heard is true, you've been short with the other engines too. Please, just tell me what's going on."

Great Northern grimaced angrily as he had finally lost patience. "I hate shunting because I was humiliated back at Grantham!"

Toby was taken aback by Great Northern's sudden outburst, obviously, a nerve had been touched. He was careful with his next question.

"What... happened at Grantham?"

Great Northern was barely able to keep himself from yelling again as he breathed in and out slowly to calm himself down. He had already angered so many engines today, he didn't want to ostracise his tram engine friend too. However, before he had a chance to say anything, his signal went green as his guard's whistle blew.

Great Northern sighed. "Toby, meet me at Knapford Station after Gordon and Edward leave with their trains for the night. And bring Thomas too. I want him to be there after I explain everything to him."

"Very well then," Toby agreed. "You'll clear everything with The Fat Controller?"

"Yes, I will. Please, just be there tonight."

"Don't you worry. I will."

"Thank you."

With that, Toby watched as Great Northern left the station with the Limited. Toby knew that something from Great Northern's past was responsible for his bad behaviour over the past couple of days. And whatever it was, it took Great Northern a lot of courage to admit and tell his side of the story of what had happened to him at Grantham.

That evening, Toby and Thomas made their way down from Ffarquhar together light engine. Toby had explained to Thomas about what he and Great Northern had discussed. Thomas, still feeling hurt, was apprehensive about meeting Great Northern again. However, he was now intrigued by what had happened to the A1 at Grantham. Which would have been behind why he was so angry and upset about shunting in the first place.

"You've got nothing to worry about from Great Northern, Thomas," Toby assured him. "Besides, if any does happen, The Fat Controller will put a stop to it straight away."

"Well... if you say so, Toby," Thomas sighed as Knapford quickly came into sight.

As the tank and tram engines made their way into Platform 3, they found Great Northern idling at Platform 2 with The Fat Controller standing between the platforms respectively. The Fat Controller seemed to be watching Great Northern closely with a stern look as the A1 said nothing until Thomas and Toby arrived.

"Ah, Toby!" Great Northern said. "You brought Thomas. Good."

Thomas squinted at Great Northern. "I would say it would be nice to see you. But it's not."

"I know. I know..." Great Northern sighed. "Thomas, I'd like to be begin by saying sorry to you. I'm sorry about how I acted and what I said about you and tank engines in general. I was talking from a place of pain. Personal pain. I really didn't mean it. I hope you can understand that."

"That remains to be seen," The Fat Controller cut in. "I have heard about this attitude of yours stemming from an experience you had at Grantham. Something to do with shunting, I assume?"

"Yes, sir..." Great Northern admitted, now ashamed of his childish behaviour.

"Great Northern, if you wouldn't mind telling us what happened at Grantham?" Toby asked, hoping to get the story going.

"Yes, right..." Great Northern took a moment to collect his thoughts. "It had been a few years since I had been rebuilt into Thompson's A1/1. I had experienced many teething troubles in my horrid rebuild. Jamming brakes, steam leaks, tender failure. It had become so bad that in 1955, I was taken off East Coast Mainline passenger duty as was sent to Grantham to be the station pilot."

Toby, Thomas and The Fat Controller gasped.

"You were really forced to become station pilot?" Thomas asked, knowing how humiliating it must have been for an express engine like him.

"Yes, I was..." Great Northern sighed again as he continued. "While to did give me a break of sorts, I was utterly humiliated. Diesels and some of the more disrespectful locomotives designed by Thompson called me 'Gresley's disgrace' and a failure of an engine. From top link express engine to a monstrosity working as a station pilot. A failed engine. And from that day forth, I despised shunting with ever fibre in my being. The humiliation I suffered... It was too much." He looked to The Fat Controller. "Sir, yesterday morning when you asked me to do my own shunting... it brought back all of those bad memories from all those years ago. I'm sorry that I yelled at you, sir. I'm sorry for how I've been behaving recently too. I was being ungrateful to the man who had saved me from scrap. Punish me however you see fit."

The Fat Controller didn't say anything for a moment, until he smiled. "There'll be no need for punishments, Great Northern. I think you've explained yourself well enough."

Great Northern was very surprised. "Really, sir?"

"Yes. As you said, shunting obviously brings back bad memories for you and I'm sorry that it does. However, I would have appreciated you telling me all this before in the first place. I'm actually surprised that you didn't."

Great Northern felt very sheepish. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir..."

"Apology accepted. However, there is something that I want to make clear to you, Great Northern. When I ask engines to do anything, including shunting, I am only thinking of what is best and what is needed for the railway. I do not go out of my way to make my engines feel uncomfortable. And I'll make sure that no engine will be humiliated for shunting their coaches, especially you. I hope you understand that."

"Yes, sir. I do, sir. From now on, I'll gladly shunt my train if need be. For the good of the railway."

The Fat Controller smiled. "Indeed, there's a good engine."

Once the Fat Controller had left, Thomas looked to Great Northern.

"Great Northern?"

"Yes, Thomas?"

"I accept your apology. And I'm sorry you had such a bad experience as station pilot. Even back in my young days here at Knapford, I was never treated so badly."

Great Northern just chuckled. "Ah, you probably would have done a better job at shunting than me anyway. Besides, shunting was what you were built and taking express trains was what I was built for. But in the end, all jobs on the railway are important."

"Truer words have never been spoken," said Toby as the three engines all laughed together before leaving for their sheds.

On his way back to Tidmouth Sheds, Great Northern pondered about his behaviour and how he could make it up to The Fat Controller and the other engines. No doubt, thanks to his attitude, his standing with the others had been tarnished to say the least. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it but apologising the others would be a good start.

So, the next morning, he did exactly that. He told them everything he had told The Fat Controller, Toby and Thomas the previous night. And much to his surprise, the other engines were quite forgiving of him now that they understood why he hated doing shunting in the first place. For that, Great Northern was grateful. Still, if there was one thing they could agree on, it was that once the new station pilot arrived for Knapford, the better.

Thankfully for Great Northern, his first slow passenger train had already been shunted into Platform 2 for him by Percy. No doubt a little present from The Fat Controller after he cleared the air last night. For the rest of day, Great Northern worked without fuss. All of his passenger trains, fast or slow, ran right on time. Much to the A1 and his passenger's delight. When he arrived back at Tidmouth Sheds that evening, he found Henry already in his berth. The green engine looked thoroughly worn out and seemed to be dead tired.

"Henry?" Great Northern asked. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Henry yawned, his mouth widening for a moment. "Oh. I'm fine, Great Northern. Just a little tired, that's all... I've mostly had fast freight trains today. And some of the trucks gave me a real tough time. Holding back and slipping their brakes on and what not. Ugh... I am not looking forward to my run with The Flying Kipper tomorrow morning."

"You mean that express fish train you take at 5am in the morning?"

"Yes..." Henry yawned again. "It's going to be quite the tough one tomorrow. Thank goodness it isn't snowing, I don't want a repeat of what happened at Killdane that one time."

At this, Great Northern spotted his chance.

"Henry, would you like me to take The Flying Kipper for you tomorrow?"

"Oh, you would? That would be great, thanks." Henry then realised what had been said. "Hold up! You _want_ to take The Flying Kipper?!"

"Yes."

"But... I've never seen you take a freight train before!"

"Ah, but I was a mixed-traffic design in my last build, remember? Besides, I did have my fair share of taking goods trains during World War Two and after it. And none of you know it, but I know how to handle trucks."

Henry was speechless, but only for a moment. "But what about your passenger trains?"

"Why don't you take over them tomorrow? I'll handle the rest of your trains too. Actually, why don't we swap crews for the day since they all know our individual schedules."

Henry eagerly agreed. "You've got yourself a deal! Thanks, Great Northern!"

"Not to worry, chap."

So, once the crews agreed along with letting The Fat Controller know what was going on, Great Northern was woken up early the next morning at 4am. Henry's crew were eager to drive the A1 for the first time and were curious to see how he would do compared to Henry. Eventually, they arrived at Tidmouth Harbour as Great Northern helped shunt the fish vans into place via the harbour foreman's orders.

Great Northern was surprised to learn that the Kipper didn't have a brakevan. Instead, there was a cab compartment for the guard of the last fish van of the train. However, the last two trucks at the front of the train that were filled with crates of fish gave him pause. The they were two 7-plank trucks who looked quite troublesome indeed.

 _Note to self,_ Great Northern thought. _Keep an eye on those two._

In the meantime, as Great Northern was getting turned around, the two trucks were upset. Who was this express engine to come in shunt them and the fish vans around? He wasn't a freight engine or even a mixed-traffic engine. They wanted a proper engine to pull them to the Mainland.

"Where's Henry?" the first one exclaimed. "Why isn't he here instead?"

"We don't want some Pacific pulling us!" snapped the second. "He's got no right to shunt us about."

"Foreman says Henry and Great Northern swapped jobs for today," said the first fish van. "Henry said he was knackered from all his own work from yesterday. And Great Northern volunteered to help and give him a rest."

"Yeah, right!" the first truck snorted. "Henry has no sense of work ethic whatsoever!"

"And that Great Northern should stay back with his passengers where he belongs!" the second added. "We'll show him what's what!"

The two trucks discussed their plan all until Great Northern backed down onto the train. Great Northern had quite the journey ahead. The first stop was Maron, then Killdane, Crovan's Gate and finally stopping at Barrow-in-Furness. All the while, Great Northern had to be as quiet as he could aside from whistling when need be on the Mainline or at stopping the stations.

Soon, it was five o'clock in the morning. Great Northern watched as his fireman fitted him with the fish train head-code before entering the cab. He and his crew heard the last door bang as the guard showed his green lamp. And like many times before, the Flying Kipper was ready to go.

Carefully, Great Northern heaved and pulled the train slowly out of the yard before turning out onto the Mainline. As he passed through Tidmouth, he could see horizon turn the faintest colour of yellow as the sun was about to rise for dawn. His fire shone brightly in his cab as Great Northern thundered down the line, delighted by the feeling of freedom as the Mainline was clear for miles.

 _You know, this isn't so bad,_ Great Northern thought. _I may prefer my coaches and passengers, but I can certainly can see the appeal of this train. The freedom, the clear Mainline and the beauty of the early morning. What more could an engine ask for?_

Presently, Great Northern saw Wellsworth ahead and knew exactly what would come next.

Gordon's Hill.

His crew knew too as they gave him as much coal and steam as they could to get up the hill without the delay. BoCo, who was returning with a down freight express train from Barrow, watched as Great Northern and the Kipper thundered by. He blew his horn in good luck as the train passed him.

In no time at all, Great Northern and the Kipper passed under the bridge and made the climb up Gordon's Hill. They were going well and were just about to reach the top when Great Northern felt a strain on his tender's coupling. Then he heard two voices cry out behind him.

"Hold back! Hold back!" the two trucks cried.

"Stop! Stop!" the fish vans cried to the trucks, horrified. "We're going to be late! Oh, no!"

Great Northern couldn't help but roll his eyes as he came to a stop just before the crest of the hill.

"Oh, how original..." he groaned. "Trucks holding me back on a hill. Yes, very well done indeed." There was something else bothering him too. "That's just great. And just like my own brother, I'm stuck on this hill too. And worst of all, we're going to be late."

As he admonished, Great Northern could hear the laughter of the two trucks behind him, but also the terrible grumbling of the fish vans too. Unlike the trucks, the vans liked keeping to time. They all knew that the Kipper was a very important train and those two trucks were making them late. This was something they weren't going to stand for. Just then, the driver walked up in front of Great Northern.

"Well... looks like we'll have to get BoCo to bank us up the hill," he sighed. "Those two trucks must have it out for you."

"Yes, and the fish vans certainly aren't happy either," Great Northern agreed until he got an idea and told his crew. "Well, what do you think?"

"Hmm, we'll need to check with the signalman back before Wellsworth, but your plan may just work."

"And make sure all of the trucks' and vans' brakes are kept off too. I want to teach them a lesson."

"As do we, lad," the driver grinned as he, the fireman and the guard all ran back down the train to release the brakes on the trucks and vans before making their way down the hill.

BoCo was very surprised to see Great Northern and the Kipper backing down towards him again. He was just about to offer his assistance when Great Northern said that he had something in mind. Soon, they reached the signal-box before Wellsworth and got the go ahead from the signalman for their plan. The driver and fireman worked hard to bring up Great Northern's boiler pressure up as high as it could go, his safety valves almost at the point of bursting. They were ready.

During their trip back down the line, Great Northern had dropped sand on the line thanks to his sandboxes. These would, in turn, help him to better grip the rails just in case of any wheelslips going up the hill. The driver opened the regulator wide open as Great Northern surged forward and the sand helped with plenty of grip as the A1 made a great heave.

Before the trucks or the vans knew it, they were running hard and fast up Gordon's Hill. The two trucks tried to hold Great Northern back or slip on their brakes, but it was no use. Great Northern was too strong and the vans didn't give the trucks any chance to mess them up once again. Great Northern couldn't help but whistle in triumph as he reached the crest of the hill and coasted down the other side with ease.

"Hahaha!" he cheered. "Looks like trucks and hills are nothing compared to an engine with a plan, determination and damn good crew!"

As the driver and fireman cheered at Great Northern's compliment of them, the two troublesome trucks remained respectfully silent and were very embarrassed. In the end, the Kipper was half an hour late overall, but all was forgiven after the whole story had been told. After they were shunted away, the two trucks were given a cold reception by the fish vans as they spread the story around about them delaying the Kipper. Needless to say, those trucks had learned their lesson, and weren't going to be part of the Kipper any time soon.

Later that day, Great Northern pulled into Platform 3 of Knapford along with Henry's fast passenger trains from Barrow. He was simmering for a moment until he saw The Fat Controller approach.

"Sir, before you say anything," Great Northern began. "I'm sorry that the Kipper was late. I was only trying to help Henry since he was quite tired yesterday. I really did try my best, sir."

Much to Great Northern's surprise, The Fat Controller smiled.

"And you did your best, Great Northern. I've heard all about your plan and your amazing run up Gordon's Hill despite that setback with those trucks. You have done me and the railway very proud. Tell me, did you like the run with the Kipper?"

Great Northern grinned. "Oh, yes, sir! The early morning air, the clear Mainline and scenery, I love it all."

"I'm glad to hear that. So, would it be too much for you to ask to fill in for Henry when possible? So, he can get a break at times if need be? Just like yesterday. If you would enjoy pulling the Kipper from now on, of course."

"Sir, I would love to," Great Northern beamed as The Fat Controller looked very pleased.

"Well then, Great Northern, I can assure you that you have more than made up for yourself after your outburst a few days ago. And I must say, it's good to have the old you back."

Great Northern couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's good to be back, sir. It's good to be back.


	10. Chapter 10

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 10

 **Jinty the Station Pilot**

The year was 1968 and it had been a week ever since Great Northern's uncharacteristic outbursts. It was during this week that the Dieselworks had finally been completed just outside of the city of Vicarstown. Along with the new Dieselworks, The Fat Controller had bought two diesel shunters to look after it. Their names were Den and Dart.

Den was a Rolls Royce Class 4DH Sentinel diesel-hydraulic 0-4-0. Dart was small Bagnall "Leys" Class 0-4-0DH diesel shunter and was Den's assistant at the Dieselworks. Together, the two diesel shunters worked hard to keep the Dieselworks running smoothly just like Victor and Kevin did with the Steamworks. Whether it be collecting diesels who had broken down, collecting spare parts and even fuel from places all over the island too.

Not only that, but both diesels also worked with the permanent way gangs on the Mainline and branchlines when need be. Rotating their jobs between the way gang and Dieselworks respectively. Needless to say, they are quite liked by the other diesels and even get along with the other steam engines too. But most of all, they are grateful for their new life on Sodor and the North-Western Railway.

However, Den and Dart weren't the only newcomers to the railway. Knapford's station pilot had finally arrived too. The little black tank engine was a familiar face on Sodor as he pulled into the yard at Knapford along with his brakevan. The engine's name was Jinty. And like Thomas, he had six small wheels, a short, stumpy funnel, a short, stumpy boiler and a short, stumpy dome.

But unlike Thomas, Jinty was a Fowler 3F tank engine from the Midland Region of the Mainland. He was painted in BR black with the late British Railways Crest on his boiler and had the number 47286 written on each sides of his cab. Jinty, along with another engine name Pug, had visited the island before and had taken over work on Thomas' Branchline after the Sudrian engines went to London for a historic visit. Not only that, but Jinty had been the station pilot at one of the London stations and was perfect for the job at Knapford.

As he waited about in the yard, Jinty then noticed a familiar face as Percy arrived along with The Fat Controller in his cab. The Fat Controller stepped out of Percy's cab and made his way over to Jinty, delighted to see his new permanent station pilot.

"Jinty!" he exclaimed. "Welcome back to the North-Western Railway. Did you enjoy your trip here from Euston?"

"I did, sir," Jinty replied happily. "It was a long trip, but it was all worth it in the end to return to Sodor. I'm just glad I left BR when I did. Thank you for buying me, sir."

"Not a problem. You proved yourself the last time you were here when my engines all went to London while you and Pug looked after the Ffarquhar branch. So, with that said, I now want you to learn how things operate here at Knapford with you as its new and permanent station pilot."

Jinty was eager to work. "Yes, sir. I'm ready when you are, sir."

"There's a good engine. Now, I have brought Percy here today to show you the ropes. He was once the station pilot here too. If you have any questions, please ask him. He shall help you with all the trains today."

"Ready to work when you are, Jinty," Percy said, smiling at the 3F.

"Alright, let's get to work!" Jinty exclaimed, whistling as he followed his old friend around the yard.

While Jinty would work with coaches most of the time, he would also need to learn about the sidings all over the yard at Knapford as he would also be expected to shunt trucks as well. After a short period of time, Jinty quickly picked up what was needed to do and what siding was used for what kind of train. Arriving, departing, spare space etc. Percy then showed Jinty all the coaches in the yard and how each kind was important to each specific train.

"The green express coaches you see are the ones used for express trains, like Gordon's Wild Nor' Wester," Percy told Jinty. "You usually have about eight to ten coaches for an express train. The next are red Mainline coaches. These ones are used for stopping passenger trains on the Mainline."

Jinty then saw some blue express coaches nearby and was curious. "What about those blue coaches? What are they for? Special trains?"

Percy chuckled. "Not exactly. They're for the Limited. An express train that Bear and BoCo usually run. See those red suburban coaches over there?" Jinty looked over to see multiple red four-wheeled coaches. "We use those for branchlines trains. Mostly used on the Ffarquhar and Brendam Branch though. Sometimes on The Little Western too when Donald and Douglas take passengers up north."

"I see..." Jinty pondered, noting that he had some things that he needed to remember. But he was sure he would learn over the time. It was just then that he spied two brown coaches in a siding all by themselves. The coaches even had names and Jinty thought they must've been for an important engine. "What about those two coaches over there, Percy?" Jinty asked. "Who are they?"

Percy looked over to the two coaches and chuckled.

"Those two? Oh, they're just Annie and Clarabel. They're Thomas' coaches that he takes up and down his branchline. Word of advice, Jinty, don't ever touch them. Thomas gets quite jealous whenever someone takes them aside from him. If you want a second opinion, go and see Emily. She'll tell you everything that happened that one time she took those two out on the Mainline. Anyway, Thomas collects Annie and Clarabel for himself for his own train. So, you don't need to worry about them."

"Understood," Jinty replied, wondering how on earth did Thomas, the very tank engine who had run into a pair of siding buffers all those years ago, was able to have his own coaches and run his own branchline?

But that was a thought for another time.

For the rest of the day, he and Percy worked hard in the yard together as they organised goods trains and then passenger trains in the station. Later that afternoon, Jinty was idling at Platform 3 when Gordon pulled in at Platform 1 with the down Wild Nor' Wester from Barrow, arriving at 3:30pm on the dot. Jinty watched as Percy took away most of the coaches except for one of which Jinty was tasked to shunt into Platform 5 by the station master.

Jinty was confused but completed the task anyway. He was surprised to learn that it was heavier than expected and then saw that passengers were still inside the coach. After shunting the coach into place, he joined Percy back at the terminal platforms.

"Percy, why were there people still inside that coach?" Jinty asked. "And why was I forced to shunt them and the coach to Platform 5?"

"Because that's Thomas' special coach."

Jinty arched an eyebrow. "Special coach? What are you talking about?"

"During Summer, Gordon brings down many people from all over England, Scotland and Wales," Percy explained. "He arrives at 3:30 punctually and we leave the last coach at Platform 5 for Thomas and those passengers who wish to go up his branchline to Ffarquhar." Percy looked around. "That's funny. Thomas should be here by now."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ran through some buffers again," Jinty snickered, thinking about the time Thomas had tried showing off to him.

"Oh, look! There he is!" Percy called as he and Jinty watched as Thomas backed down onto his special coach along with Annie and Clarabel.

"Hello, Percy," Thomas said as he, Annie and Clarabel were coupled up to the special coach. "Thanks for bringing in my coach in. Wouldn't want them stranded in a siding, now would we?"

"Certainly not," Percy chortled. "And by the way, I wasn't the one who shunted your coach, Jinty here did it. You remember Jinty, don't you, Thomas?"

"Jinty?" Thomas looked over to the 3F and was very surprised. "You? You're going to be the new station pilot here at Knapford?"

"Yes, I am," Jinty said proudly. "I already was station pilot at Euston, so I know the gist of what to do. I never expected you to have your own special coach though."

"Well, I do and I'm very proud of it," Thomas replied, pride beaming off his smokebox. "As I am of my own branchline. You know, if you work hard enough, Jinty, you might go from station pilot like I was to running a branchline like me. Then you've really made it."

Jinty frowned. "Are you saying that I haven't made it here on the railway already?"

Thomas was taken aback. "I didn't mean it like that, I-"

"I'll have you know that I do like being station pilot and I don't need tank engines like you with ideas above your station degrading me like you just did."

Thomas was hurt. "How rude!"

"You think that's rude? Well, do me a favour and run into buffers again, why don't you? Then I'll rescue you and like last time and even run your branchline like last time too!"

Thomas was just about to make a reply when the guard's whistle blew as he was forced to leave the station. Angrily puffing away as he and Jinty shot daggers at each other. Poor Percy didn't know what to think. Both of his friends were at their proverbial throats, and he had no idea what to do.

For the next few days, both Thomas and Jinty glared at one another whenever they passed each other by. Sometimes, they would blow their whistles to startle one another or would just outright insult or tease each other with anything they could think of. Needless to say, the mood changed drastically whenever those two were near each other.

However, there was a diamond in the rough, while Jinty was adjusting to life at Knapford, he had met both Duck and Oliver and was curious to learn about their auto-trains and their coaches, Alice, Mirabel, Isabel and Dulcie. Jinty had heard about the ingenuity of The Great Western Railway before, but he was very surprised to see both tank engines reverse out of The Big Station with a train filled with passengers.

"It's something that the Great Western Railway created," Oliver told Jinty proudly one day in the yard. "Thanks to our auto-coaches, Duck and I don't need to change ends when going between Knapford and Arlesburgh. Although, we sometimes like to go backwards and forwards to either station anyway. Depending on whether or not we want to reverse to Knapford or reverse back to Arlesburgh."

Jinty was quite impressed. "Wow. That is very impressive. Still, I don't understand how it possible for you to go in reverse, even with your coaches."

"The thing is, Oliver and I are both auto-fitted for our auto-coaches, Jinty," Duck explained. "In the cab of our auto-coaches, they all have a regulator, brake and whistle. And there's a steam link that runs between us and all of them. Our drivers man one of the girls' cabs, while our firemen stay with us to keep our fire going so we keep up the steam to push the train along the line. They communicate with each now thanks to the radios The Fat Controller gave us. Just in case anything should happen."

From there, the three engines talked together about the going's on with The Little Western. How Duck and Donald had an argument which included a duck named Dilly and how Duck had apparently laid an egg. Then there was the incident Oliver had at Arlesburgh where some trucks pushed him into the well of a turntable and the time when Oliver ripped apart a ballast truck named S.C. Ruffey. Finally, Jinty was told all about Bulgy the double decker bus which hated the railway and had foolishly gotten himself stuck under a bridge and had to have his passengers be rescued by Duck, Alice and Mirabel.

"Looks like it's never a dull moment on The Little Western," Jinty chuckled as he and the two Great Western engines chatted until they were all ready to leave.

The next day, Jinty was passing through Knapford with a goods train he was getting ready for James in The Shunting Yard. He was just halfway through when he saw the station master standing out on the platform next to him. He looked rather urgent.

"How can I help you, sir?" Jinty asked as he pulled up.

"Jinty, I need you to collect the coaches for Emily's slow passenger train today," said the station master. "She'll be here any minute."

"Understood, sir," Jinty replied. "I'll just have to set these trucks aside first."

"Right. You do that."

With that, the station master strode away to his office. Jinty then shunted James' trucks into the bay platform and he went away to fetch the coaches for Emily. When he arrived with the red Mainline coaches, he shunted them into place at Platform 2 as Emily soon backed down onto her train. However, she and her passengers looked visibly upset.

"Jinty?" Emily asked. "Where are my coaches?"

Jinty was confused. "But... these _are_ your coaches."

"No, they're not. The Fat Controller gave me dark green and white coaches to take whenever I pull passenger trains. You need to take these coaches away and bring me my own ones."

"I don't see what the big difference is," Jinty scoffed. "Percy said that these red Mainline coaches are used for stopping passenger trains, so why don't you just take them?"

"All the same," Emily's guard interrupted as he stood next to Jinty. "Please get Emily's coaches, will you? It's just how things are run around here. Simple common knowledge."

Jinty groaned as he rolled away. "Apparently, this piece of _common knowledge_ is something that Percy decided to not tell me about."

By the time Jinty arrived back with Emily's coaches, the train was already ten minutes late. After she was coupled up, Emily puffed angrily away. Hoping to make up as much time as possible. Jinty grumbled for the next hour or so about Emily's coaches and Percy until the latter finally arrived and sat in the terminal platforms with Jinty for a short rest.

Jinty still wasn't happy with Percy. "What gives, Percy? I thought you were my friend!"

Percy was taken aback. "But I am your friend. What are you talking about, Jinty?"

"I'm talking about Emily's personal coaches that she uses!" Jinty snapped. "You didn't tell me about them and thanks to that, Emily's train left late since I gave her the red coaches to take!"

"Oh... I see..." Percy said sheepishly. "But why are you getting so wound up about it? It was just one mistake. Besides, Duck and I made several mistakes when we were station pilot. It's not like The Fat Controller will send you away for one small slip up."

"Well, I don't want to take the chance either way!" Jinty exclaimed. "I like being station pilot and I don't want to do anything to ruin my chances here on this railway. I certainly don't want to go back to the Mainland. It's terrible over there now!"

"Jinty, I'm sorry that I forgot to tell you about Emily and her coaches, but there's no need for you to-" Percy cut himself off as the sound of a horn blowing off in the distance. "Eh? Who's that?"

Jinty looked ahead to see a familiar hymek diesel with multiple blue coaches behind him. "It's just Bear with the Limited," he sneered to Percy. "Honestly, Percy, you should try to not get distracted so much." Jinty then saw that Percy wasn't listening to him. "Percy? Percy!"

Percy called out to Bear. "Bear! Bear, stop! Your path is blocked! Stop!"

Jinty was puzzled. "Blocked? What do you mean by block-" Jinty looked to his right to see James' trucks still in the bay platform and Bear was heading straight towards them. "Stop, Bear! Stop!" Jinty cried as he and Percy blew their whistles at him as a warning.

Bear could hear them whistling as he came to the station. "Eh up. What's going on? Are those warning whistles?"

His driver finally saw the trucks at the platform. "Oh, glory! Look at that!" he exclaimed. "Brakes! Brake!"

Bear's driver slammed on the brakes as hard as he could. Bear screeched and groaned as he went slower and slower towards the line of trucks. He closed his eyes just before his buffers touched the first truck. The impact wasn't as bad as everyone thought it was going to be. Bear had collided with the trucks and pushed them forward, luckily though, there wasn't enough force to derail him as his driver suffered a little whiplash while bracing himself.

Unfortunately, many of the Limited's coaches were still beyond the platform as the sound of angry and confused passengers grew louder and louder. Poor Bear could feel his buffers aching as he moaned about his collision. Wondering just who had put those trucks there. He wasn't the only one. The Fat Controller came storming out of his office in a very irritable mood after all that whistle blowing from Percy and Jinty.

"What is going on out here?!" The Fat Controller bellowed as silence fell across the station. He looked to Bear and the trucks. "Bear? What's happened to you?"

"I'm not sure myself, sir," Bear muttered. "One moment I'm making my way into the station and the next thing I know, I'm colliding into these trucks. Why were they blocking my path in the first place?"

The Fat Controller turned slowly and sternly to a very nervous looking Jinty. "Jinty..." he said a low voice. "Explain yourself."

"I... I forgot I had placed those trucks there, sir," Jinty murmured. "I was taking them to the Shunting Yards when the station master needed me to get Emily's passenger train ready. I got her coaches mixed up and had to get her personal ones. I guess that's why I forgot about my trucks and Bear arriving at the bay platform."

The Fat Controller groaned, wiping a hand over his face. "Well then, I shall let this be a lesson for you, Jinty. It is clear to me that you still need to learn the schedule here at Knapford. However, I hope that you have learnt today about keeping the bay platform clear at all times unless scheduled otherwise. Should you keep any of the platforms blocked again, then we may have an even worse accident than what has occurred with Bear. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"And so, you should be. Now, you will take the trucks away to the yard and let Bear and the Limited back into the station. And once you are finished, you are confined to the sheds until Edward and Great Northern's trains tonight which you will get ready for both Platform 3 and 4," said The Fat Controller, hoping he was being clear enough for the tank engine. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir..."

With that, The Fat Controller walked away. Jinty then shunted the trucks out of Bear's way as the hymek finally pulled the Limited into the station to let his passengers disembark. Jinty felt terrible as he rolled into the sheds, mulling over what had happened while getting his crew to read the schedule for him over and over.

Soon, evening came as Jinty quickly got the Wild Nor' Wester and the branchline passenger trains ready for Great Northern and Edward that night. Just as he was finished, Jinty watched as Thomas pulled into the station with Annie, Clarabel and the special coach. Thomas laughed as he pulled into the station.

"Well, well, well," he chuckled. "What's this I hear about you messing up Emily's coaches and making Bear run into some trucks? Dear, oh dear, Jinty. Are you sure you know how station piloting works? I might've run into buffers before, but at least I never made anyone else run into buffers, especially some trucks blocking the station!"

Annie and Clarabel could see how down Jinty looked and sympathised with him.

"Thomas, that's enough of that!" scolded Annie.

"Yes, indeed!" agreed Clarabel. "You were once station pilot too, remember? And we heard that you made mistakes too."

"Yeah, but not as bad as Jinty here," Thomas snickered as Jinty kept quiet.

"Oh, really?" asked Annie, arching an eyebrow. "What about the time you were coupled up to Gordon and the express?"

"Or the time you pulled out of the station without Henry's train?" Clarabel added. "Not to mention that goods train that you couldn't handle?"

Thomas seethed angrily as he blew steam around the station. "Oh, pah!" he snorted, leaving the platform as he went to shunt Annie, Clarabel and his special coach away for the night.

Jinty said nothing and watched them go. He waited patiently in front of Edward's train, using his steam to keep the coaches warm. Just then, he saw Great Northern back down onto the express. The green A1 was surprised to see Jinty look so glum.

"Hello, Jinty," he said. "Are you feeling okay?"

"No..." Jinty replied. "I feel terrible. It's all my fault with what happened today."

"You mean with Bear and those trucks?"

"Yes..."

"Well, you don't need to worry about that. I've spoken to Bear and he understands that accidents happen now again. The only thing is that his buffers will be sore until tomorrow. But that's nothing to worry about."

"I know, but I just wish that Thomas would..." Jinty stopped as he heard Edward's whistle off in the distance. "Oh, there's Edward. I'll see you back at the shed, Great Northern."

And before Great Northern could say anything, Jinty was uncoupled from Edward's train and sidled off back to the sheds. Great Northern watched him go, pitying the poor tank engine as he left. Edward had even whistled hello to Jinty, only to get no reply at all. Edward was very concerned as he backed down next to Great Northern.

"Great Northern."

"Edward."

"What's got Jinty so down?"

"Because of what happened today with Emily and Bear," Great Northern said. "And from what else I've heard, Thomas had done something too."

Edward seemed to ponder this. "Percy told me that Thomas and Jinty had an argument a few days ago as well. It seems those two aren't on the best of terms. No doubt Thomas must be rubbing what had happened today in to Jinty's face. Poor engine."

"Indeed. I hope there is something we can do to help."

The two engines thought long and hard. But try as they might, they couldn't think of anything to both help Jinty and get Thomas to stop teasing and being rude. Soon, both of their trains were due to leave as they both left for the Mainline and the branchline. The two engines both hoped that something would happen with the tank engines, and quick.


	11. Chapter 11

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 11

 **Clearing the Air**

During his second week on the Island of Sodor, Jinty had been acting rather... different after his mishaps with both Emily and Bear. As he worked diligently as station pilot of Knapford, but the 3F barely said a word to anyone. His crew had said that he seemed to only care about working and keeping to schedule more than anything else.

The other engines, while they did appreciate his work-ethic, were caught off guard by how he seemed to be giving them all the silent treatment. Both Edward and Great Northern had tried to talk to the tank engine multiple times and see how they could get him to speak, but to no avail.

Jinty said nothing.

That wasn't the only thing either. Whenever Jinty saw The Fat Controller around the station, he would either try to avoid him by doing his work or would only say, "Yes, sir" after The Fat Controller had given him a task to do before hurrying away to complete said task. At the sheds, while the other engines would talk before going to sleep, Jinty just backed down into his berth and went to sleep without a word.

Most of the engines were worried for Jinty, some of them didn't like that he was keeping so quiet. Gordon and James seemed most upset by this as they had told Jinty many times to stop being so quiet and tell them what was going on. However, they soon gave up once they realised there was no chance trying to get through to him. Unfortunately for Jinty, Thomas still hadn't stopped his teasing ways and took great delight in taunting Jinty whenever the two were at Knapford together.

"Ah, working hard I see," Thomas remarked one day as he pulled into Knapford with Annie and Clarabel as Jinty had just shunted Gordon's express coaches into Platform 1. "There's a good engine. Do make sure you don't leave anymore trucks about. Heaven forbid should you do the same with any of our precious coaches."

Jinty, as usual, said nothing, but rolled away back to The Shunting Yards. Thomas then left the station, still laughing while Annie and Clarabel tried to reprimand him. But it was no use.

Later in the morning, work had died down for Jinty in the yard. Most of the shunting for the goods trains and for the passengers in the station were done. So, the tank engine was able to take a well-earned break while filling up his tanks with water. Just then, the station master walked up to Jinty, his driver and his fireman.

"I've got a job for you lads," he said. "I need you all to take some empty ballast trucks up to Arlesburgh for The Little Western engines. They're going to need them later on today."

Jinty was concerned and had some good reasons to be so.

First, it had been raining lately all over Sodor, and Jinty had heard of engines slipping on the rails. Second was the fact that he hadn't taken goods train for a long while. Which led to his third reason to be worried; Duck and Oliver said that ballast trucks were the worst kinds of trucks on the railway and took any chance they could to cause mischief. One only need to look at Oliver's accident in a turntable well for an example. But there was something else on Jinty's mind too.

"But, sir," Jinty interrupted. "What about my work here at Knapford? What if another engine comes by with a train and I'm not here to shunt the coaches or trucks away?"

"You won't need to worry about that," the station master assured him. "We're not expecting another train to arrive for an hour or so, if not more thanks to this miserable weather. That should give you more than enough time to get up to Arlesburgh and back here. Now, off you pop. The soon you go, the sooner you get back here."

Jinty watched the station master leave, still worried about this new task of his.

"Now don't go getting your coupling rods in a knot, lad," said his driver. "Everything will be fine with this train. Besides, these ballast trucks will be empty, and they won't have enough weight to cause us any trouble. But, if it helps, Brett and I will double check their brakes before they leave, alright?"

Jinty sighed gratefully. "Thanks, Sean. I appreciate that."

After that, Jinty and his crew quickly got the empty ballast trucks into place as the driver and fireman checked and double-checked the trucks' brakes so there would be no funny business if they felt the train being held back at any point on their trip. Jinty was then fitted with an empty wagon head-code by his fireman just as the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, his fireman rushing to join the driver in the cab.

With that, Jinty was off. He started slowly out of the yards with the trucks rattling behind him. As he puffed up The Little Western, Jinty was careful to listen out for any ideas that the ballast trucks may have in store for him, but he had heard nothing so far. For the first time in over a week, Jinty actually got the chance to relax and admire the surroundings around him as he trundled up The Little Western.

Despite the overhead grey clouds, Jinty loved the beautiful scenery nonetheless. He rushed through first tunnel after crossing over the River Tid as he then rolled over the now supported structure of Bulgy's Bridge. He marvelled at the pristine sight of the coast and the seaside towns before passing through Haultraugh.

He continued up the line passing by Bulgy in his field, accompanied by some very happy looking chickens before passing through Bluff's Cove. Finally, the line separated from the coast and he soon arrived at Arlesburgh. Jinty was surprised to see Donald and Douglas waiting in the station's sidings for him. Not only that, but they looked quite happy to see him.

"Hullo, Jinty!" Donald called. "Thank ye for bringin' Douggie and I the last of our trucks."

"Oh, you're very welcome," Jinty replied, smiling at the gratitude.

"I hope those trucks didnae cause ye any trouble, did they?" Douglas asked. "If they did, Donnie and I will teach them a thing or two."

Jinty could hear the fearful murmuring of the ballast trucks behind him and chuckled. "No, Douglas. There's no need for that. They were actually well-behaved."

"Aye, that's good to hear. You must know how to keep those trucks in line, eh?"

Jinty considered this for a moment. Douglas did seem to have a point. Ever since he had started shunting in the yard, all of the trucks had behaved well and had never done anything to warrant any kind of confusion and delay when Jinty was around. He was honestly surprised that these trucks hadn't taken the opportunity to cause strife for a new engine om the railway like him. Maybe he did have a way to shunt trucks properly, so it would tell them otherwise to play tricks on him?

"I guess I do know how to keep trucks in line," Jinty said, smiling. "After all, I was station pilot back in Euston."

"Och, aye. So ye tell us," Donald cut in. "Actually, Jinty, I have to admit, this has to be the most words you've said to any of us in over a week. What's goin' on?"

Jinty felt a little embarrassed as he looked down at his buffers meekly. "I'm not sure, if I'm being honest. I guess that after I saw the scenery of The Little Western, I've started to feel a little better. After those incidents with Emily and Bear a week ago."

"Aye, I heard about that," Douglas remarked. "I also heard from the other engines that you've barely spoke at all during this past week? Were those accidents really that bad?"

"I suppose not," Jinty sighed. "I just really take things like mistakes to heart. I also feel bad for making Bear's buffers really sore after he ran into those trucks. I didn't mean to leave them there, I just forgot about them. Then, the Fat Controller gave me a good talking to. I've been working hard all week to be on time and to get back into his good books." Jinty exhaled deeply again. "It certainly doesn't help when Thomas comes by and teases me as I do my work."

"I've heard aboot that as well," Donald cut in. "Percy said ye had an altercation at Knapford aboot bein' station pilots, right? Something about tank engines with ideas above their station and how ye were yet to find yer stay here on the railway?"

"Yes, it's all true," Jinty admitted. "Thomas just kept on talking about how he was station pilot once and then 'moved up' the ladder to being a branchline leader. He made me feel as though he was demeaning my work. I like being station pilot, and I don't have any plans to become a branchline leader like him or Duck. So, I shot back at him with his own personal history to get my own back. And after my accidents, he's never let me live it down."

"Dinnae fash yerself aboot him, Jinty," said Douglas. "I'm sure Thomas' comeuppance is bound to hit him in the bunker at some point. Mark me words. It tends to happen here on Sodor a lot. It may just happen with this weather."

Jinty looked up the sky, the grey clouds looming overhead. "I wouldn't be surprised at all."

Meanwhile, Thomas was making good time along his branchline with Annie and Clarabel. He had been running smoothly all morning and had run to time as usual, much to his passengers' delight. Now he was heading down with his down service from Ffarquhar and was looking forward to seeing Jinty again, thinking of new things to say when he would see the 3F at Knapford.

After a little while, Thomas pulled into Elsbridge, and waited for a guaranteed connection with Emily from the Mainline. He didn't have to wait long as the Stirling Single soon arrived along with her coaches in tow. Needless to say, Emily looked rather fed up with all the bad weather Sodor had been experiencing as of late.

"Hello, Emily," Thomas began. "How's the Mainline going for you big engines?"

"Ugh, not well at all," Emily groaned. "I can't count how many times I've slipped on the rails today. I'm barely getting by with the sand in my sandboxes as it is anyway. If this keeps up, I'll be out of sand by the time I get to Vicarstown."

"Well, Den and Dart will have their work cut out for them with the permanent way gang once the rain is cleared. At least we've hadn't had any other accidents at the Big Station recently. I think Jinty's finally learnt his lesson."

Emily watched as Thomas laughed. She, as well as many of the other engines were aware of how badly Thomas had been treating Jinty over the past week.

"Thomas," she said sternly, "there's no need for you to be so rude. You've been pestering poor Jinty for the past week relentlessly. You know, I thought that you would be one to relate with Jinty since you were also station pilot, but I'm obviously wrong. Not only that, but with the way you are acting, Thomas, you are a disgrace to the railway, as well as yourself."

Thomas was flabbergasted by Emily's words. He hadn't expected Emily to come to Jinty's defence and thought the Stirling Single would be on his side after what had happened with Jinty mixing up her's coaches the week before. Thomas was just about retort when Emily began rolling away after her guard had whistled for them to leave. Unfortunately for Thomas, he got no reassurance from Annie or Clarabel.

"I couldn't have put it better myself, Clarabel," Annie told her sister.

"Indeed, Annie!" agreed Clarabel. "Emily is most correct, Thomas. You're doing a disservice to not only the railway, but yourself as well."

Thomas snorted angrily as he pulled out of the station. "And here was me, thinking that you two were my side." His attitude didn't fare any better as he made his way down from Elsbridge to Toryreck. "Pah! Big engines... What do they know? They think they know everything, but they don't. So, that's that!"

As he continued to grumble, Thomas rolled down his branchline. He noticed that the tracks seemed to become more and more wet. His wheels slipped once, then twice and then thrice. He struggled on as his driver tried hard to open the regulator, letting out more steam while the fireman shovelled coal as fast as he could so Thomas could move. But then, his wheels spun furiously once more, getting no grip whatsoever. Thomas grunted in annoyance as he came to a stop.

"Great, just great," he sighed. "Annie? Clarabel? Do you think you could give me a push?"

Annie and Clarabel were shocked.

"You mean bump you?" asked Annie.

"But we can't!" exclaimed Clarabel. "Just think about what would happen to our passengers if we did!"

"Alright, alright, never mind," Thomas huffed as he spoke to his crew. "Tony, Peter, trying putting some sand down."

"Right," Thomas' driver said as he went to open Thomas' sandboxes. However, Thomas noticed that nothing happened. He didn't feel any sand build up in front of his wheels.

"What gives? Didn't you open my sanding valve?"

The driver tried again, but still nothing happened. "Well, isn't that just what we need?"

"Sandboxes failed, Tony?" asked the fireman.

"Aye, sandboxes failed, Peter," replied the driver.

"Oh, joy..." Thomas groaned. "Now we're all stuck out here. Including my passengers."

"Sorry old boy," said his driver. "There's naught to be done but find the next signalman and call for help. Peter, be a lad and go to the next signal-box, will ya?"

"Ugh, the weather is bad enough as it is," Thomas' fireman moaned.

"Just _go_!"

"Alright! Alright! I'm going, I'm going!"

Meanwhile, at Knapford, Jinty had just arrived back at the yards light engine from The Little Western and was looking forward to getting back to work. His conversation with the Caledonian Twins had cheered him up significantly and he felt rather cathartic after explaining his past actions to Donald and Douglas. As just he shunted his brakevan into a siding, the station master came running over to him.

"Jinty, good, you're here."

"What's the matter, sir?" Jinty asked curiously.

"We've just received word that Thomas has failed up along his branchline. He's just north of Toryreck and I need you to help him complete his journey back here to Knapford."

A smile crept onto Jinty's face. "Thomas failed? Well, well, well, so much for a branchline leader then. Can't make it through in this weather, can he?"

The station master looked sternly at him. "This is no time to act petty, Jinty. The weather has been making Thomas' wheels slip and he can't move because his sandboxes have failed. Thomas' passengers are stranded, and they need to reach their destinations no matter what."

"Yes, sir," Jinty replied as he trundled away out of the yard towards the line that led up to Thomas' Branchline. Jinty couldn't help but grin when he saw Thomas stranded on the line with Annie and Clarabel, looking quite fed up. "Dear, oh dear, Thomas. What kind of example are you setting to your passengers as the branchline leader? Well, at least you haven't run into any buffers this time."

Thomas said nothing except for snorting angrily as Jinty buffered up to him. From there, the two tank engines got their train going as Jinty used his sandboxes to sand the rails for a better grip as they coasted down the branchline. By the time they got back to Knapford, they were late but not defeated. The last remaining passengers all disembarked and thanked Jinty for coming to their rescue, saying what a really useful engine he was. Thomas received no such compliments. Then came The Fat Controller, he smiled to Jinty.

"Jinty, I've heard glowing praise about you from the passengers. Well done on bringing Thomas and his train back here to Knapford."

Jinty beamed. "Thank you, sir. I was only doing what was needed to be done."

"Indeed. I must say, Jinty, your work ethic has been very admirable as of late and I am most pleased with you. In saying that, I can I ask you to take over Thomas' passenger trains for the rest of the day?"

Thomas was appalled. "But, sir! That's my job!"

"Maybe so, Thomas, but since your sandboxes have failed, I have no choice but to give your work to Jinty. In the meantime, you will take over Jinty's work as station pilot here at Knapford."

Thomas' jaw fell open. "But, sir!"

"Enough, Thomas! My mind is made up. Your crew will be given the station pilot schedule for the rest of the day." The Fat Controller turned to Jinty. "You and your crew will also receive Thomas' schedule for the rest of day too, Jinty. I have full confidence that you will do a superb job just like last time. Now, I suggest that you have your sandboxes refilled"

"Yes, sir!" Jinty beamed as he rushed out of the station to have his sandboxes refilled for the next trip with Thomas' train.

Thomas was then left in the station, furious as he left to shunt Annie and Clarabel to their sidings until their next train to Ffarquhar. A little while later, Thomas watched jealously on as Jinty departed with Annie and Clarabel. However, he didn't have time to brood as his crew put him to work as the temporary station pilot.

At first, Thomas thought he would do his old job like it was second nature. However, he soon learned that being station pilot was harder than he remembered. He felt a great sense of déjà vu as he shunted coaches in and out of The Big Station. Clearly remembering the weight of his old job on his once young buffers. When he realised this, he had a new-found respect for Jinty and realised what a silly and rude engine he had been.

In the meantime, Jinty was having a great time as he trundled up and down Thomas' Branchline with Annie and Clarabel. Both of Thomas' coaches were very apologetic to him for Thomas' behaviour over the past few days. Jinty only laughed and thanked the coaches for their apologies and concern. Needless to say, Annie and Clarabel liked Jinty very much the longer they spent time with him.

However, as time went on, Jinty felt the responsibilities of Thomas' work deeply. The schedule was tight as was expected with guaranteed connections along with Percy and Toby on the line with their own jobs too. While Jinty certainly enjoyed the change of work, he didn't account how careful he had to be for not only Annie and Clarabel, but for the passengers too. It had been quite some time since he had pulled passenger trains and while he was enjoying these runs, he was looking forward to returning to his station pilot duties.

Soon, it was mid-afternoon as Thomas watched from the station pilot siding as Gordon pulled in the station right on time at 3:30pm. Once Gordon had pulled in, Thomas spied his special coach on the back of the Wild Nor' Wester and was very jealous as he knew that he would have to shunt the coach into the bay platform for Jinty to take up to Ffarquhar for the last passenger train of the day. He carefully shunted the coach filled with passengers into place before backing down into Platform 4, waiting for Jinty, Annie and Clarabel to arrive.

A few minutes later, Jinty backed down into the bay platform along with Annie and Clarabel as Jinty's fireman coupled up Thomas' coaches to the special coach. Thomas still felt jealous as he looked over to Jinty with his coaches, however, he felt guilt more than anything else.

"Jinty?" Thomas began. "Can I ask you something?"

Jinty returned a glance. "And what would that be?"

"How did you go with my passengers today?"

Jinty was surprised by this question from Thomas but answered him nonetheless. "I've actually had a lot a fun, to be honest. Your passengers have been quite kind too. Even though they were a little surprised to not see you during the next trips to and from Ffarquhar. How have you been going as station pilot again?"

"Honestly? I'm worn out as it is," Thomas sighed. "I haven't been very happy to do my old job again, but I guess I've just forgotten just how tough of a job it really is. I've basically been at it non-stop all day. If I'm not shunting coaches, I'm organising trucks around in the yard. I still can't believe I did all this work when I was a young engine all those decades ago." Thomas then looked down at his buffers meekly before looking at Jinty. "Jinty, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry for how I've been acting towards you lately. You were just doing your job and I was harassing you. I'm so sorry."

At this, Jinty smiled, grateful to finally get an apology. "It's alright, Thomas. I forgive you. And I should apologise as well. Perhaps I was being a little too sensitive a week ago and I shouldn't have brought up your past mistakes the last time I was here on Sodor. So, I'm sorry for being rude to you as well. Can you forgive me?"

Thomas grinned at this. "Of course, Jinty. Of course, I can."

With that, the two tank engines laughed and made up before Jinty departed for the last branchline train of the day. From then on, Jinty and Thomas became firm friends and now have the utmost respect for each other and their work. And thanks to their newfound friendship and acceptance of each other, Jinty had finally come out of his shell to the other engines and was readily accepted to the sheds at Tidmouth after keeping so quiet and recluse for over a week.

The engines all understood how hard he worked as station pilot and appreciated what he did for them. Now, Jinty the Fowler 3F, and permanent station pilot of Knapford, truly feels part of the North-Western Railway fleet and as a family member of the Sudrian engines in general.

And for that, Jinty couldn't be happier.


	12. Chapter 12

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 12

 **Sleeping Beauty's Return**

It had been a few years since Skarloey and Rheneas' 100th birthday. It was on that day that a special party was thrown for the two engines. Everyone that was anyone had all gathered together at Lakeside to celebrate the two very old engines. The most important guests happened to be The Skarloey Railway owner, Sir Handel Lloyd Brown II, The Fat Controller Sir Charles Topham Hatt II, and The Thin Controller, Sir Peter Sam. But there was also an important fourth guest as well, the Duke of Sodor himself, Sir Robert Norramby.

There had been a slight altercation thanks to Peter Sam after asking the Duke whether he was real or not. Thankfully, Sir Robert took it in his stride and said that he was, in fact, very real and was proud of the owner, Sir Handel Brown and wished many more happy years to come for both Skarloey and Rheneas. After the party, Peter Sam had been reprimanded for his outburst and was asked why he had said such a thing to the Duke himself. It was then that Peter Sam and Sir Handel talk about their old friend from The Mid-Sodor Railway. Duke the Lost Engine.

After that, all of Duke's stories of him, Stuart and Falcon during the days of the Old Mid-Sodor spread. The Skarloey engines told Mr. Hugh. Mr. Hugh told The Thin Controller. The Thin Controller told the Owner. The Owner told the Duke. The Duke told The Small Controller. The Small Controller told The Thin Clergyman. And the Thin Clergyman told the Fat one.

That's why one morning, the two clergymen and The Small Controller, were looking at maps covering the northern region of Sodor.

"Our railway," said The Small Controller, "is laid on the bed of the Old Mid-Sodor. But swings around to end at the roads south at that village of Arlesdale. The old line went straight on. It went north of Arlesdale and then to the mountains and onward to Peel Godred. The maps show the works of the old station. If Duke is anywhere, he's there."

Later that day, the three men stood in front of Rex, Mike and Bert at the sheds. The engines spoke to The Thin Clergymen

"Are you writing another book, sir?" they asked.

"Yes, but not about you," he smiled at their downcast faces. "Cheer up. This new book is about a nice old engine who was lost, but if you're good, the artist may put you in the pictures."

"Oh, thank you, sir!"

So, the clergymen told the three small engines about Duke, Falcon and Stuart.

"So, you see," he continued. "Poor Duke was left alone." Rex, Mike and Bert sighed sympathetically. "But we want to find him and mend him, and make him happy again. Your Controller wants to help, but he can't if you're being naughty."

Rex, Mike and Bert promised to be as good as gold.

The three men spent days and days at the old station. They came up every morning from Bert's train. He always whistled good luck as they walked up the track but had nothing in the evening except for scratches and torn clothes. They didn't give up though.

"Duke's there somewhere," they said.

The Fat Clergyman found him in the end. Scrambling over a hillock, he trod on something which wasn't there, crashed through a hole, and landed legs astride on Duke the Lost Engine's saddle tank.

"AHA! Our 'Sleeping Beauty' himself!" he shouted to the other two men on the surface.

The Thin Clergyman and The Small Controller, peeked through the small hole above The Fat Clergyman and Duke. Unfortunately, Duke was none too pleased about being woken up, never mind having his shed invaded or a man landing down on his boiler.

"Excuse me," said Duke with a stern look. "Are you a vandal? Driver told me that vandals break in and smash things."

The Fat Clergyman ruefully felt his bruises. "Bless you, no," he laughed. "I'm quite respectable. I only dropped in because I couldn't find your door."

Then he told Duke about Falcon and Stuart, and their new life on The Skarloey Railway. Duke was delighted and very thankful.

"So, they did remember," Duke said softly, a tear threatening to come out of his eye. "Erm, does His Grace approve?"

"Why, yes. He's coming."

"To see me? How kind. But I'm all dirty, and that'll never do. Please clean me."

So, the men set to work. And by the time The Small Controller had sent for His Grace, Duke was by far the cleanest of anyone in the shed. Early next morning, Mike brought down the way gang with workmen and tools. They enlarged The Fat Clergyman's hole, lifted Duke out and put him on a low-loader to take him away by road.

Duke felt uncomfortable. "I'd be ashamed," Duke protested, "to travel by road. It's... It's... It's undignified."

"I'm terribly sorry, Duke," said Sir Robert Norramby. "But the Small Railway has no suitable trucks to take you to The Skarloey Railway."

Duke relented then. But with some many people that came out to greet him and see him off, made the old engine feel much better.

"So, they do remember me!"

By the time the low-loader and Duke arrived at Arlesburgh, Donald was waiting with a well-wagon and everyone cheered, engines from The Small Railway and those from The Little Western were there to see him off too. Before he left, Duke got a chance to speak to Rex, Mike and Bert.

"I still cannot believe they were actually able to run a railway after what happened to my own," he said, very impressed. "Tell me, what does your railway offer that the Mid-Sodor did not?"

"Well, for one thing, we bring mine waste down from the hills and use it as ballast," Rex began. "We've heard of the big railway engines saying that it is the best kind of ballast. The way gangs agree too."

Duke was amazed. "Waste from the mines as ballast? Why didn't we think of that? Oh, that certainly would have been a good idea at the time."

"Not only that," Bert cut in. "But we bring the farmer's wool from all over the countryside to market here at Arlesburgh. And that trade certainly does help with the profits of our railway."

"I have no doubt of that," Duke said, now feeling as though he should kick himself in the tender for not coming up with these solutions decades ago. But there was something else on his mind about The Small Railway too. "Tell me, do you have a passenger service?"

"Yeah, we do," Mike answered, barely able to stop himself from groaning. "We take passengers on a sight-seeing tour throughout the valley with our special kind of coaches. Personally, I prefer goods trains myself, but I know that passengers are important for our railway too."

"They are indeed," Duke replied gravely. "The major reason for my old railway shutting down was because the decrease in our passengers that came to visit. Still, I fondly remember the days of my old picnic trains. Oh, those were the days." He then looked to the three small engines. "Rex, Mike, Bert, I do wish you all the best of luck with your work and who knows, maybe someday, your railway will reach just as far as my own one. I'm sure that it will happen sooner or later."

"We'll certainly try," The Small Controller chuckled as Donald began puffing away as more cheers erupted from around the station for Duke on the last stage of his journey to his new home.

Duke enjoyed his run down The Little Western. He had only seen the tracks of Arlesburgh during his time with his old railway and The Mainland and Sodor Railway before the NWR was formed. He was treated to a lovely scenery of the open water, the smell of sea and the seaside villages dotted all along the western coast. He also enjoyed a lovely conversation with Donald, learning all about the major events on Sodor that had happened recently during his absence. He was disheartened to learn about The End of Steam on The Other Railway but was thankful that Sodor had no plans for Modernisation.

"Tell me, Donald," Duke began. "What makes these diesel engine engines different from steam engines like you and me."

"Well, for one thing, they don't run on coal and water like us," Donald answered. "They run on diesel fuel nowadays. British Rail thinks they're more economical than you or me. They've taken over the whole Mainland and sent many good steam engines to the scrapyard."

Duke was most disheartened. "I see. Dear, oh dear..."

"Aye. It's because of them diesels that me and Douggie escaped Scotland and came here to Sodor. They took our jobs and one of us were goin' to be withdrawn. But not all diesels are bad though. Daisy, BoCo and Bear are very nice diesels and they're a credit to the railway. They even considered steam engines back on the Mainland to be their mentors."

Duke smiled at this. "I'm glad to hear that, Donald. I guess there are diamonds in the rough nowadays, aren't there?"

"There are indeed," Donald chuckled.

"So, Donald, are there any diesels on The Skarloey Railway?"

"Och aye, but only one. His name is Rusty. He usually handles the maintenance and odd jobs around The Skarloey Railway. He's a hard worker too. I'm sure you'll get to know him well."

"So long as he works harder than Stanley, I'm sure I'll get along with him just fine."

In no time at all, Donald and Duke were thundering down the Mainline. Duke watched happily as he saw engine after engine passing them by. He even saw Bear pulling the down Limited from Barrow. Duke had to admit, these diesels sort of looked like boxes on wheels. Then again, he had been called a steam kettle on occasion too.

Eventually, Donald arrived at Crovan's Gate on time and shunted Duke onto one of the platforms nearest to the Skarloey Railway sheds. No one was around at the time, so Duke thanked Donald for the trip and went to sleep again for another nap. He wasn't alone for long though. Peter Sam and Sir Handel were on early turn that morning and peeped out of the shed.

"He's there!" they whispered. "Shh! Shh!"

Duke heard them and opened his eyes. "You woke me!" he grumbled. "In my younger years, engines were..."

"...seen and not heard, Granpuff! Remember?" the two tank engines laughed.

"I remember," said Duke, "two idle, good-for-nothings called Falcon and Stuart."

"Good for you, Granpuff! We've glad you've come, we can keep you in order now."

"Keep _me_ in order?!" Duke spluttered. "Impertinence! Be off with you two!"

Peter Sam and Sir Handel puffed away, well content and happy to see their old Granpuff once more after so many years.

"Impudent scallywags," murmured Duke, watching as the two engines left for their work. But his old eyes twinkled and for the first time in years, he smiled as he dozed in the sun. "It's good to see them again, even if they are still cheeky."

A little while later, Duke was then placed down onto the tracks of The Skarloey Railway as Rusty pulled into the sheds along with a coach. Two men departed from the coach and greeted Duke. They were none other than The Thin Controller, Sir Peter Sam, and the Owner, Sir Handel Brown.

"Welcome to the Skarloey Railway, Duke," The Thin Controller began. "How are you liking it so far?"

"I certainly like the look of your railway already, sir," Duke replied. "This junction station of Crovan's Gate looks marvellous, and I cannot wait to see the rest of this railway. Although, I am very glad to see Stuart and Falcon again too."

"And we've heard that they are thrilled to have you back," added the Owner. "Duke, as much as we want to put you to work straight away, I'm afraid that we need to send you to the works for routine maintenance before you're allowed to pull a train up the line. I hope you understand."

Duke completely understood. "Not worry, sir. I understand completely. Better to be safe than sorry, that's what I always say."

The Owner grinned. "Now, there's a wise engine in front us, Peter. It's good thing Fergus, Wilbert and Teddy found Duke when they did."

"I can only agree, sir," The Thin Controller nodded as he turned to Duke. "Duke, this is Rusty. He will be taking you to the works to be repaired."

Duke looked to the little diesel. "So, you're this Rusty I've heard of from the big engines, are you?"

Rusty was surprised that Duke had heard of him. "You... know about me?"

"Why, yes. They say you're the maintenance engine on this railway, are you not?"

"Yes, I am!" Rusty answered proudly. "Keeping the line clear and safe is of utmost importance. It's a lot easier now since we've got some great quality ballast from up north."

"You mean the ballast from the small engines?" Duke asked, chuckling. "I've met them. Lovely chaps they are."

"Small engines?" Rusty asked. "Aren't we small engines?"

Duke chuckled. "Yes, we are. But there are a trio of engines up north that run on half the gauge size track that we do. But they're quite efficient."

"If you say so..." Rusty replied, unsure of what Duke was telling him. "Shall I shunt you to the works, Duke?"

"Oh, yes please."

With that, Rusty coupled up to Duke and took him to the works. A group of workmen quickly got to work as they checked Duke all over for any repairs necessary. Surprisingly, Duke was in a pretty good shape, despite being stuck inside of a shed for two decades. All he really need was a good clean out and oil up before he emerged out of the works under his own power. Duke practically beamed once he was out, his paint was spotless, and his brass shone.

"I feel like a young engine again," Duke said once he was out of the works.

"That's what many of our engines here say after being looked after by our boys," a familiar voice called out as Duke looked down to see The Thin Controller in front of him.

"Oh! Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Duke. I trust you are feeling well?"

"I am indeed, sir. I haven't this good in over... well, twenty years actually."

"I'm glad to hear it. Now then, myself and the Owner have organised a special train for you to take today up to Lakeside, Duke."

Duke, at hearing this, was very intrigued. "A special train, sir? What kind of train would that be?"

"I believe that you are familiar with a certain _picnic_ train back on the Mid-Sodor, were you not?"

Duke was delighted. "Oh, sir! Thank you, sir! Where do I begin?"

"Just be ready at the station platform next to the NWR's line. Skarloey will shunt your coaches into place behind you. These particular coaches are very precious to this railway, so please, do be careful."

"Of course, sir," Duke agreed. "No true engine would ever treat coaches badly. As I've tried to tell Falcon many times."

"Well, it seems to me that it still hasn't gotten through," The Thin Controller chortled. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. Now, you'd better get to the station, Duke. Gordon will be here soon with the Wild Nor' Wester from the Mainline."

"Right. Away we go, driver!" Duke called as his new driver opened the regulator. Duke felt his wheels move and couldn't help but grimace a little. "Oh, my. Stiff. I'm so stiff!"

"Not to worry, old boy," said his driver. "Once you've had a good run, you'll be fine."

"I sure hope so."

Soon, Duke backed down into The Skarloey Railway's platform of Crovan's Gate. He waited patiently for his coaches to be shunted in behind him while his driver sorted out the necessary head-code. Skarloey then shunted four coaches and one brakevan of which were well-known on The Skarloey Railway. They were none other than Agnes, Ruth, Lucy, Jemima and Beatrice.

"Come along now, my dears," Skarloey hummed as he buffered up behind Beatrice the brakevan. "You've got an important train today."

"Important train?" Beatrice asked, yawning. "What would that be, Skarloey?"

"A picnic train," Skarloey answered. "You're going to have many important passengers along for the trip too."

"A picnic train?!" chorused Ruth. "Oh, how delightful!"

"Where are we stopping?" asked Lucy. "Glennock? The Causeway? Please tell me we're actually going to stop at the picnic area, aren't we?"

"It's been years since we've been part of such an important train!" Jemima beamed. "I simply cannot wait!"

"Now, now, girls," Agnes cautioned. "We still don't know which engine will be taking us all. Heaven forbid should it be that dreaded Sir Handel."

Skarloey couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Agnes. Pessimistic as ever, I see."

"I'm am not being pessimistic, Skarloey dear. I'm being pragmatic, thank you very much!"

"Oh, calm down now. The engine taking you all isn't Sir Handel. It's Duke."

The coaches went silent for a moment before tittering amongst themselves.

"Do you think he means it, dears?" asked Jemima.

"Impossible!" spat Ruth. "Peter Sam said that Duke was lost long ago. There's no way he could be back now!"

"But would our Skarloey lie to us after all these years?" Lucy questioned. "What if they have found Duke?"

"I highly doubt it," Agnes sniffed. "Why, I bet our Skarloey is getting our hopes up before we meet... HIM!" Agnes cried suddenly as the coaches were shunted up behind Duke. "Girls, it's him! It's really him!"

Duke was caught off guard. "Him? Who's him?"

"She means you, Duke," Skarloey chuckled as he pulled up alongside Duke. "They didn't believe me when I said that you would be taking them up to Lakeside with this picnic train."

"I can imagine why not," Duke grinned. "After all, I was asleep for twenty years." He looked back to the coaches. "Now then, my dears, it is a pleasure to meet you all. My name is Duke."

"O-Oh, we know that!" Beatrice tittered. "We've heard all about you from Peter Sam and Sir Handel."

"You have? Well, I hope my reputation proceeds me," Duke chuckled. "Now, as I was saying, I apologise in advance if I do happen to bump you fine ladies on this journey. I won't mean it, I just haven't pulled a passenger train in a very long time."

Agnes began batting her eyes. "Oh, I certainly won't mind if you did, Duke," she cooed.

"Agnes!" Lucy gasped.

"There's no need to be so vulgar!" Jemima scolded.

"I wasn't being vulgar!" Agnes pouted. "I was just reassuring Duke, that's all! Right, Dukey?"

Duke didn't reply as he looked over to Skarloey as the coaches continued to argue. "I take it they're always like this?"

"More often than not, yes," Skarloey sighed. "They're very chatty. But they'll come quietly so long as you treat them right."

"Not to worry, I know how to handle coaches. I just hope I'm not too rusty. Beg pardon, but who are you, my good engine?"

"I'm Skarloey. The No. 1 engine of this railway. I must say, I still can't believe I'm talking to Duke himself. Peter Sam and Sir Handel always spoke highly of you in their stories."

"Peter Sam and Sir Handel? You mean The Thin Controller and the Owner?" Duke was still having trouble with Stuart and Falcon's new and preferred names. "Oh! You mean Stuart and Falcon! I do apologise, I've still yet to get used to their new names."

"That's alright. I understand. I'm sure they won't mind if you do call them by their old names anyway." Skarloey then heard a familiar whistle off in the distance, as did Duke. "Oh. That must be Gordon with the Wild Nor' Wester now."

Sure enough, Gordon pulled into the big railway's platform of Crovan's Gate with the Wild Nor' Wester in tow. In no time at all, a crowd of people disembarked and made their way to the little engines' platform. Within the crowd were none other than The Fat Controller, The Small Controller, His Grace, The Thin Clergyman and The Fat Clergyman. The men were also joined by The Thin Controller and the Owner as they and the rest of passengers all boarded Duke's picnic train. The guard then waved his green flag and blew his whistle.

"Right away, driver!" called the guard as he scrambled into Beatrice.

"Good luck, Duke!" Skarloey shouted as Duke began pulling out of the station.

"Thank you, Skarloey!" Duke said back. "Cheerio!"

And with that, Duke began making his way up the line with some very happy and very full coaches trailing behind him. Needless to say, Duke was very impressed as he made his way up The Skarloey Railway. To him, it had to be one of the nicest railways he had ever seen. On his way up to Lakeside, he dropped visitors off at various locations. One at the Whispering Waterfall. One at the picnic area itself. And another just after the Sodor Castle Causeway. Duke was both impressed and little apprehensive.

"Tracks over the middle of a lake?" he said. "Seems a little dangerous for my liking. But it's still quite a nice view."

Soon he dropped off another group off before the Viaduct and the campsite after Rheneas Station before continuing on to Skarloey Station and Lakeside to finish the first part of the trip. Duke was feeling very happy with this trip but was pleased for the rest and was surprised when he saw Peter Sam pull up alongside him with a passenger train of his own.

"Hullo, Granpuff! Enjoying your picnic train?"

"I am indeed, Stuart," Duke acknowledged. "I'm so glad you and Falcon found such a beautiful railway to work on."

"And we're both glad to have you back with us, Granpuff. It'll be just like old times, and there's far less of a chance of our railway being closed down too."

"Ah-Ah!" Duke snapped suddenly. "It saying things like that which will have the opposite of the desired effect. Murphy's Law, Stuart. Don't you remember me teaching you that?"

Peter Sam only laughed. "Oh, Granpuff. After all this time, you still believe in superstitions and jinxes! Never change, Granpuff. Never change."

"All the same, better to safe than sorry. That's what I always say." As Duke scolded Peter Sam, he noticed the two coaches behind him. Duke had seen those coaches before, they were both bogie coaches but were now painted blue with cream window surrounds. "Gertrude? Millicent?!"

"Duke!" exclaimed the former Mid-Sodor coaches. "It's so good to see you again!"

"Likewise," Duke smiled. "Tell me, how did you two get here?"

"The Thin Controller was in need of rolling stock and he bought some from the Mid-Sodor. Luckily, he found and bought us. You should have seen Peter Sam and Sir Handel's faces when they saw us."

"I can only imagine," Duke smiled as a voice was heard from one of the sidings nearby.

"Keep your buffers off him! He's mine!"

"Agnes! Quiet!"

"No! Dukey is my engine, not theirs!"

"Don't you mean _ours_?"

"Oh, whatever!"

Peter Sam was stunned. "Was that... Agnes?"

"I'm afraid so," Duke sighed. "I swear, that coach is infatuated with me or something. Actually, I think all of those coaches and that brakevan like me a little too much."

"Consider yourself lucky, Granpuff," Peter Sam snickered. "Those five are quite stern when they meet new engines, but it looks like they're completely different around you."

"Lucky me..."

Just then, the guard's whistle blew.

"Peter Sam!" called Millicent. "We'd better get going."

"Right you are, Millicent!" Peter Sam called back. "Wouldn't want to be late for Henry."

Duke was curious. "Who's Henry, Stuart? Do you two have a history?"

"Oh, we do," Peter Sam chuckled. "But I'll tell you about it later on tonight, goodbye!"

And with that, Peter Sam left the station with Gertrude and Millicent rattling behind him. A couple of hours later, after a short rest, Duke also departed with his picnic train down the line. Once again, he stopped at every place where he had let off the passengers to have their picnics and was pleased to see that they had come back on time just as he had asked. Soon, Duke pulled into Crovan's Gate with Donald waiting on the NWR's platform. The passengers disembarked and thanked Duke for a lovely ride and day for a picnic. Duke couldn't have been happier.

The Thin Controller then met Duke at the sheds. "Duke, I must say, I am very proud of you and your work today."

Duke beamed. "Thank you, sir. Today has been absolutely thrilling, if not nostalgic too."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll be organising other picnic and passenger trains for you to take in the near future. I trust you will be happy with that?"

"You'll get no argument from me, sir."

"Splendid! Thank you again, Duke. And I hope you have a good night's sleep."

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir. Good night, sir."

And with that, The Thin Controller left for home while Duke yawned and went to sleep. Or at least he tried when two familiar tank engines backed down into the sheds with their whistles blaring, startling Duke.

"And just what do you two think you're doing?!" Duke spluttered.

"Surprising you!" laughed Sir Handel. "So, how was your first day?"

"Did anything else happen with Agnes, Ruth, Lucy, Jemima and Beatrice?" asked Peter Sam.

Duke couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Back in my day, young engines like you were..."

"...seen and not heard!" the tank engines laughed.

Duke wanted to scold Peter Sam and Sir Handel like many times before. However, he couldn't help but laugh along with them. Duke might have been a new railway with his new lease of life, but at least he had some familiar faces and some new friends to help him along the way. And for that, Duke was very grateful.


	13. Chapter 13

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 13

 **Change of Pace**

It had been a great season for The Skarloey Railway. Ever since Duke's return to service, business was booming. Passengers flocked from all over the Island and even the Mainland to see the former lost engine of the Mid-Sodor back to work. Because of this, The Thin Controller had rostered Duke to passenger work along with Gertrude, Millicent, the three open carriages, Ada, Jane and Mabel, and of course, Duke's old brakevan from The Mid-Sodor Railway, Cora.

Duke wasn't the only one who was working hard either. Peter Sam and Sir Handel's spirits had been lifted a hundred-fold. The pair were always eager to work and to help out whenever they could. Sir Handel had even stopped grumbling about his usual grievances and he had even helped Rusty with the way gang once too. While he was initially surprised, Rusty was very grateful.

"I can't remember a time when morale was so high!" Skarloey said to Rheneas one evening at the sheds.

"Not even when we reunited with Talyllyn and Dolgoch a few years ago?" Rheneas asked, smirking.

"Oh, well... there was that. But still, having Duke join our fleet has done wonders for our railway. I've heard the Owner say that we've made quite the tidy profit from the holiday season this year."

"Really? How much?"

"About 120% compared to last year."

"What? 120?! Blimey, that's quite a lot!"

"Indeed. And that money will certainly be put to good use. You know, new equipment and rolling stock, track maintenance, more of that new ballast from up north, coal and water, not to mention the advertising The Thin Controller is planning for our railway too. Things are certainly looking up. And it's all thanks to Duke."

"Not to mention The Thin and Fat Clergyman, and The Small Controller. They did find Duke after all."

"Of course, of course. Still, I wonder how long all of this good can last?"

"Not much longer, I'm afraid. Look, here comes Duncan."

Sure enough, the century old engines went quiet as Duncan backed down into the shed grumbling. He shot a glance at Skarloey and Rheneas.

"Well, I take it you two had a better day than I did, right?" he scoffed.

"It seems we have," Rheneas grinned cheekily. "Now then, Duncan. What's got you down this time?"

"Well, for one thing, it's all this cheeriness goin' aboot all over this railway!"

Skarloey was taken aback. "Cheeriness? What on Earth has gotten into you, Duncan?"

"What I'm sayin' is, is that it's unnatural. It's unhealthy! I cannae remember the last time I ever saw Peter Sam and Sir Handel so happy."

Rheneas frowned. "Well, you're a right old scrooge, aren't you? Why do you think Peter Sam and Sir Handel are so happy? Duke has finally reunited with them. He's basically their grandfather. How could they not be happy?"

"I'm just sayin' that it gets on me nerves, it does. And not only that, but thanks to Duke and our schedules bein' changed, now I have to take most of the slate trucks down here from the quarry!"

"Your point, Duncan?" Skarloey yawned, rolling his eyes. "We all take trucks, so what are you complaining about?"

"I'm complainin' aboot those damned trucks always bumpin' and bashin' me all the way from the quarry! I swear, they have it out for me. Those wee box-sized demons!"

Rheneas gave Duncan a firm stare. "Well, maybe if you nicer to the trucks, then they wouldn't be giving you such a hard time."

"Me? Play nice with trucks?!" Duncan snorted. "Pah! That'll be the day! The day I start playin' nice with trucks will be the day when engines bounce. Now, if it were up to me, I'd much rather be back on..."

"Let me guess," Skarloey cut in, "you want back on passenger duties, don't you?"

"Och aye, I do! At least with coaches they dinnae bump and bash ye aboot like some jack-in-a-box. And speakin' of coaches, I've heard Gertrude and Millicent say that Duke is bein' all mopey like and the such."

"Mopey?" Rheneas inquired. "What do you mean by mopey?"

"How should I know? I mean, what's Old Duke got to be mopey aboot anyway? He's not scrapped, he's been found, he's workin' on a new railway and he's going to have good life here. I dinnae see the reason for him to be upset at all!"

"Of course, the one who complains the most, wouldn't see why another person would have a reason to," Skarloey said wisely as Duncan snorted again. "I'm not sure if I am correct about my next assumption, but maybe Duke is feeling a little worn out?"

"Huh, I'm not surprised," Rheneas chimed in. "All those passengers and enthusiasts have been swarming around him ever since the beginning of Summer. Not to mention all the remarks he gets from Agnes, Ruth, Lucy, Jemima and Beatrice. They treat him as if he's some sort of celebrity. Of which, he kind of is. But still, maybe he's just getting sick of the all the attention being on him all of the time? It must be growing old on him quick."

"Aye, growin' old," Duncan agreed. "Like him."

"Duncan!" Skarloey admonished. "How dare you be so rude!"

"Oh? And what are ye goin' to do aboot it, Skarloey? Ye cannae exactly bash me buffers without no driver or fireman, now can ye?"

"That brand of cheekiness from you, Duncan, will be your downfall. Remember that."

Duncan said nothing in response as he backed down into the shed and went grumpily to sleep. In the meantime, Skarloey glanced to Rheneas, obviously worried about Duke and what Duncan had told them.

"Do you think what Duncan said about Duke is true, Rheneas?" Skarloey inquired to his old friend.

"It could very well be, Skarloey," Rheneas sighed. "Tell you what, I'll go and speak to Duke the next time I see him tomorrow and I'll ask what's got him down. How does that sound?"

"Very prudent as always, Rheneas," Skarloey agreed as the two old engines went to sleep.

The next day, Rheneas took an express train from Crovan's Gate up to the Lakeside. When he reached the top station, he found Duke idling in the adjacent platform with his own down service. As he waited for his passengers to arrive, Duke seemed to be looking solemnly down at the ground. His eyes were round as he seemed to be thinking, or maybe wondering about something? Still, the old Mid-Sodor engine no longer had that twinkle in his eye or that small smile that the Skarloey engines had grown to love.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Duke? Is everything alright?" Rheneas began but received no response from Duke. "Duke?"

Duke was startled, his eyes darting about in his smokebox. "Huh? What?! Oh, it's you, Rheneas. How can I help you?"

"Duncan told me and Skarloey that you've been a little down lately. Is this true?"

Duke looked away for a moment, seeming to look ashamed before returning his attention to Rheneas. "Rheneas, please don't think of me as ungrateful or anything, but... I fear that I'm having trouble fitting in and getting used to your railway."

Rheneas was shocked. "You don't feel comfortable here? Why ever not?"

"Well... You see... I..." Duke struggled to find his words. "I guess that it just comes down to me not being used to this railway yet. I still have to get used to all of the scenery and the fact that I'm going north and south now, not east and west like my old line."

"But haven't you been up down the line many times now? Surely you would be used to it be now? What about Peter Sam and Sir Handel, aren't you glad that you're reunited with them?"

Duke glared at Rheneas. "Are you insinuating that I do not appreciate their presence?!"

"No, no! Nothing like that!" Rheneas demurred. "I'm just really trying to understand why you might feel unhappy here on our railway at the moment. Duke, I'm being honest when I'm telling you that I want to help you. Please, believe me."

Duke sighed heavily as he subsided. "I'm... I'm sorry, Rheneas. I fear my temper got the better of me then. I do apologise."

Rheneas smiled. "Apology accepted, Duke. It's water under the bridge. Now, is there anything else that has gotten you down about our railway?"

"If I am being completely honest, while I am infinitely grateful to be on your railway, I feel as though I've been... 'thrown into the deep end', so to speak."

"How so?"

"Well, it all stems from me working on my old railway for so long. Then being locked in my shed for two decades to suddenly being found, then taken to another railway and being put to work on unfamiliar territory." Duke looked to Rheneas again. "Like I said, please don't think of me as ungrateful, Rheneas, but I feel as though that I haven't taken enough time to slow down, take in all of the scenery and learn every nook and cranny of the line. It's how I first learnt everything on the old Mid-Sodor. But... like all things, those days are gone. And I must make do with the days I have now."

Rheneas was left speechless until he picked his words carefully. "Duke, I..."

Rheneas was cut off by the sound of the guard's whistle as Duke began leaving the station. Duke looked to Rheneas again with a small smile.

"Thank you for hearing me out, Rheneas. It feels rather cathartic, I appreciate it."

"Y-You're welcome, Duke," Rheneas muttered as Duke made his way down the line with his train in tow.

Rheneas then looked down at his buffers, unsure of how to make Duke feel better and truly make him feel part of the railway. Later, after shunting his coaches into their siding at Crovan's Gate, Rheneas met Skarloey once again at the sheds. Skarloey was pleased to see Rheneas and hoped he had some good news for him regarding Duke. But when Rheneas explained their conversation at Lakeside, Skarloey was now quite worried too.

"Oh, dear..." Skarloey murmured. "That is troubling indeed. No wonder Duke is feeling down. All of those passenger rides and picnic trains he's taken over the Summer must've been the reasons why he feels as though he's been thrown into the deep end."

"Exactly," Rheneas agreed. "Like Duke said, he just hasn't had the time to take things slowly on our railway. No wonder he feels out of place."

"Well, we can't just let him keep at it like this, now can we? Do you have any ideas?"

"I'm afraid not. Do you?"

"No..." Skarloey admitted, miserably. "Bother! This really is a pickle we've gotten ourselves into, isn't it? Surely there must be a way for us to help Duke fit in, or at least get used to the railway. There just has to be!"

"Perhaps something will present itself to us?" Rheneas asked hopefully.

Skarloey rolled his eyes. "Wishful thinking, Rheneas. Wishful thinking."

"I was just making a suggestion. It's not like we have ideas bursting from our smokeboxes."

"Alright, alright. I see your point."

Just then, Rusty trundled by, overhearing their conversation. "Hey up! What are you two going on about? Something from the early days?"

Rheneas spoke first, "No, Rusty, Skarloey and I are just trying to figure out if..." Rheneas stopped. An idea flew into his funnel as he grinned at the little diesel. "Rusty! That's it! I've got it!"

Rusty was very bemused. "Got what, Rheneas?"

"Yes, Rheneas," Skarloey cut in. "What's this idea you have?"

"The way gang!" Rheneas exclaimed. "If Duke were to work the track maintenance instead of Rusty, that would be the perfect way for him getting used to our railway!"

"What a splendid idea!" Skarloey cheered, also liking the idea. "If Duke works with the way gang, he can take all the time he needs to get used to the line and help the rest of us by keeping the track safe."

Poor Rusty was still confused.

"I'm sorry, what's going on?" The two old engines then explained to Rusty about the situation with Duke. "Oh! I see now. Sure, I'll gladly let Duke do my work if you think it would help him assimilate better."

"I'm sure it will," Rheneas said confidently. "Now, we'd better tell The Thin Controller about this."

And they did.

The three engines told The Thin Controller their plan for Duke once he had arrived at the sheds. The Thin Controller was delighted with the plan and left for his office to make the arrangements. The following morning, The Thin Controller made his way over to Duke who was simmering nicely in his shed but seemed confused as to why he had not been taken to the station for his passengers like the others.

"Good morning, Duke," said The Thin Controller.

"Good morning, sir," Duke replied, still bemused with his current situation. "Sir, if I may ask, how come I haven't gone to the station yet for my passengers this morning?"

The Thin Controller smiled. "That is because I haven't rostered you to take any passenger trains."

Duke was shocked. "But why ever not, sir? Did I do something? Say something? Sir, I-"

"Don't worry, Duke. You're not in any trouble. I just thought that maybe you needed a change of pace after all the hard work you've been doing since the Summer season after your arrival."

Duke liked the sound of this, but he was still unsure of what The Thin Controller's intentions were. "Forgive me, sir, but what do you mean by 'change of pace'?"

"Duke, for the next week, I would like for you to work with the permanent way gang along the line. You will help the workmen and carry their gear up the line and mend track in any spots necessary. I hope this will give you a break sorts after all of those passenger trains. I also hope you'll take the time to enjoy all the scenery you can."

Duke was delighted.

"Oh, yes sir! Thank you, sir! That will be lovely."

Soon, Duke had gathered a flatbed, a truck to hold all of the worker's tools and equipment, one of the open coaches for the workman to sit in along with Cora the brakevan for the way gang train before setting off down the line. Even though the work was slow and gradual, Duke had a wonderful time.

He watched as the men got to work on the track. Readjusting the rail keys, fastening the track chairs and screws on the sleepers, as well as re-gauging some track where the rail chair had shifted out onto the sleepers with loose screws. As the men worked diligently, Duke was able to take in all the scenery he could at every stop along the line. Slowly but surely, Duke was familiarising himself with his new railway and was growing to love it. By the time Duke and the way gang reached Rheneas Station, he found Rheneas resting in one of the station's shed.

"Hello, Duke!" Rheneas called. "How are going with the way gang?"

"Splendid, just splendid!" Duke called back. "I'm enjoying it very much, indeed. Doing this work is just what I needed."

Rheneas couldn't help but agree. "Indeed. I may have very well saved our railway once, but Rusty and the way gang are the ones that have kept it going. Now, so are you, Duke."

Duke smiled. "Thank you, Rheneas. And I have to say, thank you for talking to The Thin Controller about me."

Rheneas was caught off guard.

"You... You knew I talked to The Thin Controller about you?"

Duke only chuckled.

"Come now, Rheneas. I might be a hundred-years-old like you and Skarloey, but I know when to put two and two together. You were the one who asked how I was feeling and if there was anything you could do to help. So, you decided to come up with the idea for me to take care the way gang instead of Rusty for a while. I'm very happy that you did too. I've finally been able to enjoy myself along the line and familiarise myself with it. It's even more beautiful than I originally thought."

Rheneas couldn't help but grin.

"You're very welcome, Duke."

And with that, Duke left the station with the way gang to continue the work along the track. Rheneas watched him leave, he was happy to see that Duke was finally settling in on their railway. He could only hope that Duke would be happy from now on.


	14. Chapter 14

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 14

 **The Bulldog's New Tricks**

Duke the old Mid-Sodor engine had been thoroughly enjoying his time with the permanent way gang of The Skarloey Railway. Up and down the line they went, looking for any small problems on the track of which were rectified before they had a chance become worse. Even though track maintenance, to most people, seemed quite uneventful and boring, it is very important to the maintaining of a railway. Poor track conditions were one of the reasons why the old Mid-Sodor Railway had closed down, and Duke knew this fact very well.

Duke took pride in helping the way gang keep the track in working and pristine order. Sometimes, it was the little things that had the biggest impact. Thanks to the slow and gradual work of the way gang, Duke was able to take in and enjoy the scenery that The Skarloey Railway offered. Before, with his picnic train and other passenger trains, Duke never really got a chance to slow down, relax and take in everything about his new home. With this job however, it gave him the exact opportunity he had been craving.

During this time, Rusty, who was usually the maintenance engine of the railway, had been assigned more common jobs by The Thin Controller. In the mornings, he would help with the passenger trains and in the afternoon, he would take slate trucks down to Crovan's Gate from the slate quarry. Rusty thoroughly relished this change of work but was still looking forward to when he would return to his usual duties with the way gang.

However, there was one track maintenance job that Rusty abhorred. The kind of train that only came around one a year. The weedkiller train. This year though, Duke was the engine to take it, and Rusty was very thankful.

"Duke can take the weedkiller train every year if he wants," Rusty told the other engines once Duke had left early that morning with the weedkiller train in tow. "Whenever I take it, I get so hot and bothered thanks to all that dawdling along the line."

The weedkiller train was actually a flat-truck with a large tank on it. A pipe hung across the line behind the truck's buffers and when the man in charge turned the tap, liquid sprayed out onto the track through holes in the pipe.

"Let's just hope he's not too slow," Duncan sniffed. "I dinnae want to be caught behind him and that train. But given how old he is, that very well might be the case."

Sir Handel was very offended. "How dare you, Duncan! You have no right to speak of Duke that way!"

"Duke might be old," Peter Sam cut in. "But he'll surprise you yet. We didn't call him the Bulldog for nothing back on the Mid-Sodor. Don't you remember the stories we told you all about Duke saving Sir Handel from a cliff edge and surprised me with a bump after I had to help with his picnic train. We both made fun of Duke, and we both paid for it in the end. Duke is stronger than you think."

"Oh, pah!" Duncan snorted. "Unlike you two, I'm not so careless."

Skarloey shot Duncan a knowing grin. "Bold words coming from the engine who liked to 'rock n roll' a few years ago."

Duncan spluttered. "Derailments could happen to any engine, Skarloey! I seem to recall you being derailed once when you were a young engine."

"I was, but that was thanks to Agnes, Ruth, Lucy, Jemima and Beatrice. Nevertheless, Sir Handel and Peter Sam are right, Duncan. You don't have to the right to insult Duke the way you just did. He has done wonders for this railway already and continues to do so. I would be more respectful if I were you, and you could learn a thing or two from him as well."

Duncan wheeshed steam angrily. "Have that old fusspot teach me something? Och, aye! I'll learn something from Duke when old dogs can learn new tricks." And with that, Duncan puffed away to the station to collect his train.

Sir Handel and Peter Sam began to discuss Duncan and how rude he was until Skarloey finally got the pair to calm down. It was well-known by the other engines that Sir Handel and Peter Sam were very protective of Duke, their Granpuff. They had both missed him for over two decades and they now had him back, and there was no way they were going to stand anyone insulting Duke. Including Duncan.

Later that day, Sir Handel met Duke at Skarloey Station. He told Duke all about what Duncan had said and was still very cross indeed.

"It was just plain rude, Granpuff!" he admonished. "I don't know why, but Duncan just seems to complain about anything and everything. Even more than I do!"

"So, I see," Duke remarked. "Well, Falcon, all I say is that maybe Duncan has always been like that and may always will be. Some engines just like to complain and to hear the sound of their voice. Things like that is hard to shake off of an engine."

"Well, I'd wish he'd stop. It's like he doesn't care about the work you've been doing lately. The way gang and the weedkiller train are very important. Without them, our line would be in a terrible shape. I remember Skarloey and Rheneas telling me and Peter Sam about the days when it was just the two of them on this line. They said that the line was in a terrible state and I think it's a miracle that this railway didn't close down like our old one. Skarloey even said that he didn't recognise the railway after Rusty and the way gang had cleaned up the line."

Duke could only agree. "You are right, Falcon. However, I think that day, some engines and people, take things for granted. Some people just don't realise what they have until it's gone."

"Isn't that the truth?"

"Yes, quite. Now then, Falcon, I think you'd better get going with your passengers," Duke looked over to Gertrude and Millicent behind Sir Handel. "Make sure to keep Falcon in line, won't you, my dears?"

"Not to worry, Duke," snickered Gertrude.

"We'll certainly try," giggled Millicent as Sir Handel started pulling out of the station.

"Keep in line? Me?!" Sir Handel spluttered. "Oh, the nerve! I resent that remark, Duke!"

"Now, now," Duke called, chuckling as Sir Handel trundled away. "Keep calm and carry on, that's the spirit!"

Sir Handel couldn't help but groan. "Ugh... Granpuff might be old, but he still likes to crack jokes. He really hasn't changed, even after twenty years of being stuck up in a shed!"

"Heheh, young'uns," Duke chortled as he then left with the way gang once more.

A couple of days later, Duncan was getting his first passenger services of the day ready and was just about to shunt his coaches to the platform when he saw The Thin Controller making his way over to him. Duncan hoped he was passing by, only to watch as the Controller stopped in front of him.

"Duncan," he said. "I need you to stop what you are doing and to head up to the Slate Quarry please."

Duncan was surprised. "The Slate Quarry, sir? Whatever for? I have my own passenger train here to take care of."

"I'm afraid that Rusty has overheated his engine and needs to be taken to the works. So, while he is being repaired, I need you to handle his work with the slate trucks. Skarloey will take over your passenger runs."

"Trucks?!" Duncan exclaimed. "But, sir! I'm taking enough trucks as it is! I'm barely taking any coaches now thanks to Duke on maintenance duty!"

"Maybe so, but engines on this railway do as they are told." The Thin Controller gave Duncan a stern look. Duncan wisely subsided. "Good. If that is all from you, Duncan, then make your way to the quarry as soon as you can."

"Come on, lad," said Duncan's driver. "The sooner we sort out Rusty's trucks, the better."

"Sooner isn't soon enough," Duncan grumbled, reluctantly making his way out of the yard.

By the time he arrived at the quarry, Duncan saw that Peter Sam had just coupled up to Rusty as black fumes were just starting to die down from Rusty's radiator. Duncan wasn't sympathetic as he trundled into the quarry in a right royal mood.

"Typical!" he snorted. "Rusty overheats and I'm forced to do his work. Just typical!"

"Oh, stow it, Duncan!" Peter Sam snapped. "Did you just happen to forget the time you burst your safety valve a month ago?"

"Pah! Burst safety valves could happen to any engine! Overheated engines however, do not. At least not on this railway anyway." He shot a nasty glare at Rusty.

"It's not my fault!" Rusty protested. "The trucks were being silly and put on their brakes. I ran my engine too hard to try and shunt them about."

Duncan wasn't convinced. "Then next time, get your driver to lift off their brakes. I thought ye would've known that by now."

Rusty didn't reply.

"Ignore him, Rusty," Peter Sam advised. "He's just upset that he has to do more work now. Come along, we'd better get you to Crovan's Gate as soon as possible."

"R-Right..." Rusty murmured as Peter Sam pulled the little diesel out of the quarry and headed down the line.

In the meantime, Duncan got to work. He angrily bumped and bashed the trucks into place. He took no nonsense from any of them as he shunted them into place. Naturally, the trucks were upset. They hated it when engines shunted them about so roughly and Duncan's bad mood quickly rubbed off on them as well. The trucks all spoke to each other in whispers.

"Pay Duncan out. Pay Duncan out," they whispered to each other.

Soon, Duncan had his first train organised, ready to take down to The Transfer Yards. As he backed down, Duncan gave the trucks another hard bump for good measure. Only to not realise that this last show of force only solidified the trucks' determination to pay him out.

"Listen up!" Duncan boomed. "I want no nonsense from the lot of ye! We've got a schedule to keep and we cannae afford to dilly-dally. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the trucks murmured, seemingly compliant but were actually devious.

They started smoothly at first with Duncan pulling the train fine through Skarloey Station and then Rheneas Station. However, just after crossing the Viaduct, Duncan was stopped at a red signal, so he could let Skarloey pass with the passenger train from earlier which Duncan was supposed to take. Skarloey whistled hello, but Duncan offered no reply.

"I should be the one pulling passengers," he grumbled. "It's bad enough I have deal with this lot and have to deal with right-of-way too. It's just not fair!" He was then stopped at another signal. "Oh, great! I bet I'm going to be late if this keeps up."

At this, the trucks waited for their opportunity to strike. As soon as Duncan started, the train gathered up speed, the trucks all bashed their weight up against Duncan. Pushing him down the line at a frightful speed. They had bumped Duncan so hard that his crew were knocked from the footplate. It was by sheer luck that the driver managed to pull Duncan's brake lever down as he and the fireman fell out of Duncan's cab.

"Ahh!" Duncan cried. "Stop! Stop, you bleedin' twits! Stop!"

The trucks didn't stop. "We thought you wanted to be on time, Duncan! Well, now you can be!"

"Gah! Not like this! This is the worst way possible!" Duncan cried as he shot down the line. Narrowly avoiding being dunked in the water of the Causeway as he screeched past Sir Handel who was sitting on a loop siding. "HEEEEEEEELP!"

"Cinders and ashes!" exclaimed Sir Handel. "Duncan's a runaway! Driver, sound the alarm!"

Sir Handel's driver then hurried to warn the closest signalman. In no time at all, points were changed, and signals were diverted. Meanwhile, Duke was idling at the Cros-ny-Cuirn when the station master came running up to him and his crew.

"Duncan's been spotted as a runaway!" he said. "He'll pass through here any minute."

"We'd better keep off the track then," said Duke's driver.

"No," Duke interrupted. "We need to help Duncan. We have to make him stop."

"Stop?" his fireman coughed, spitting out some of tea. "How are we supposed to stop a runaway train?!"

"Leave that to me," Duke replied. "I have an idea, but I'm going to need you both to trust me on this."

Despite their better judgement, Duke's driver and fireman reluctantly agreed as Duke crossed over the points onto the through line. The people on the platforms gathered around nervously with what was about to happen. Suddenly, there was a frantic whistle in the distance.

"Driver, back me away now!" Duke called as his driver opened the regulator wide open as Duke began reversing down the line. In no time all though, Duncan raced through the station. The trucks laughed while poor Duncan was scared out of his livery. Soon, Duke could see Duncan up ahead of him. "Driver!" he called again. "Slowly shut off steam and get me buffer to buffer with Duncan! Then, put my brakes on as hard as they can go!"

"I don't like this, Duke!" His driver exclaimed as he did what Duke told him to do.

He shut off steam as Duke slowly but surely got closer to Duncan. Soon, Duke and Duncan were buffer-to-buffer as they thundered down the line together. The driver then put Duke's brakes on as hard as they could go. Sparks flew from under Duke's wheels as they screeched against the rails. Once they reached a certain speed, Duke gave a shout.

"Driver! Fireman! Jump out of my cab, now!"

His crew quickly obliged. Leaping out of Duke's cab from either ends as they rolled across the ground with light bruises and cuts. Duncan, in his frantic state of mind, finally found his voice to speak.

"Duke! You crazy, old codger! What are you thinkin'?!" he wailed. "Now we're both going to die!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Duke shot back. "My brakes on hard, how about yours?"

"They... I think they're gradually getting harder! My driver must have pulled my brake lever after he and my driver had been thrown from my cab."

"Good! Now brake as hard as you're worth! Or we're going to have quite a nasty end!"

Duncan gulped and tried braking as hard as he could.

Down at Crovan's Gate, Rusty had been left in a siding after being shunted into place by Peter Sam. He was waiting for Mr. Hugh to come and check over his engine when he heard the desperate sound of brakes squealing across track as he saw Duke, Duncan and the trucks round the bend. They were heading straight for him.

"Oh, no!" Rusty cried, shutting his eyes and braced himself for impact.

"We're not going to make it, Duke!" Duncan wailed. "We're not going to make it!"

"Just keep braking, lad!" Duke ordered as Duncan shut his eyes and continued to brake as hard as he could.

Duke also closed his eyes and grimaced as he used all of his weight against Duncan and the trucks to slow down the train. Just then, the screeching sound of brakes softened as the sparks from Duke and Duncan's wheels began to disappear. Duke could feel himself going slower and slower all until he felt a little _chink_ on the bufferbeam of his tender. He looked back to see that he was now bufferbeam-to-buffer with Rusty. They had finally stopped.

"A-Are we dead?" Duncan asked, feebly opening an eye.

"No, lad," Duke smiled, his cheeks red after being worn out from all the braking. "We're quite alive." Duke looked back to Rusty. "Are you alright, Rusty?"

"I-I'm fine!" Rusty called back, still a little shaken.

Duke sighed in relief. "Well, it seems we avoided a nasty accident, didn't we?"

"You could say that again."

Suddenly, a crowd had gathered around the three engines. Congratulating Duke for his bravery as his crew came into the yard to check over their engine and Duncan. As Duke's crew looked over the two engines, Duncan looked nervously up to Duke.

"Duke, I... I owe you an apology," Duncan murmured.

"An apology?" Duke repeated. "Whatever for?"

"I might've said some unsavoury things about you to the other engines... I was being petty because I felt put-upon with ye doing the maintenance work while I was forced to take on some of your work and then Rusty's this mornin'." Duncan then chuckled. "Peter Sam was right. He and Sir Handel do call ye the Bulldog for a reason, don't they?"

"They do indeed," Duke grinned. "Apparently, I'm stronger than what most engines think."

"And you said you'd learn something when an old dog learns new tricks, Duncan," Rusty cut in.

Duke arched an eyebrow at Duncan. "Oh? Did you learn something, Duncan?"

Duncan looked at his buffers meekly. "I think I've learnt a lesson in respecting one's elders." He looked up to Duke. "Duke, I have complete respect for you."

Duke smiled at that. "And I have complete respect for you admitting that to me, Duncan. And you know what? I think this old Bulldog had learned something new as well."

"What would that be, Duke?" asked Rusty.

"How to stop a runaway!" Duke hollered as the two engines laughed as did the people in the crowd.

Soon, Duncan's trucks were shunted away by Rheneas who scolded them severely for nearly causing a terrible accident while Peter Sam came and shunted Duke and Duncan into their own sidings until The Thin Controller arrived to speak with them. During that time, Mr. Hugh looked them over and said that they should both be back to work the next morning.

Not long after, The Thin Controller arrived at the sheds. He spoke to Duke first.

"Duke, while I am not happy with the kind of situation you put yourself in, I am very proud of you for stopping Duncan and his runaway train. Now, would you mind being relieved of maintenance duties, so you can return to your old work? With Rusty needing repairs, I need all the engines I can get."

Duke smiled. "Of course, sir. The way gang did a fine job in helping me assimilate with the railway. I'll be more than happy to return to my own work."

"There's a good engine," he turned to Duncan. "Duncan, I understand that this has been a traumatic experience for you. If it wasn't for Duke's quick thinking, things could have ended up much worse for you and Rusty. However, I have been told by the other engines of your bad behaviour lately and the quarry manager claims that you have been shunting the trucks far too hard for his liking. As punishment, and as a way for you to cool off, I am assigning you to maintenance duties in place of Duke and Rusty. I hope you learn the importance of the way gang and what it does to keep this railway running."

"Yes, sir..." Duncan murmured as The Thin Controller tipped his hat and walked away.

Duncan looked to Duke. "Thanks again for saving me, Duke. I cannae thank ye enough."

"That's alright, Duncan," Duke chortled. "We all live and learn. I've certainly learned a lot over my long life."

"And for an old Bulldog, you're still learning new tricks," Duncan snickered as the two engines laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 15

 **A Familiar Face**

It was sunny autumn day on the Island of Sodor, and all the engines of the North-Western Railway were working hard. Great Northern was feeling very excited as he puffed into Elsbridge with his guaranteed connection with Thomas. He had been given an important task by The Fat Controller.

"Good morning, Great Northern," Thomas said. "You're looking happy today."

"I am indeed, Thomas," Great Northern grinned. "I've been informed that The Fat Controller wants me to pick up the Duke and Duchess of Boxford and take them to Knapford."

"A Duke and Duchess? Ooh, that does sound important. Where will you be meeting them?"

"At Barrow. Once this train has been terminated, I'll take a fast train back to Knapford with the Duke and Duchess aboard."

"Sounds like quite a trip to me," Thomas said as he puffed away. "Have fun, Great Northern!"

"And you too Thomas!"

And once he had clearance to leave, Great Northern set off down the Mainline.

He soon arrived at Vicarstown with his train, coming to stop as his passengers disembarked and boarded. However, when it was time for them to leave, their signal was still red. Great Northern waited impatiently as he looked up to the signal.

 _That's odd. What's going on?_ he thought. _We should have been away by now. Any more waiting here and I'll be late for next train with the Duke and Duchess._

Just then, Great Northern heard a very familiar whistle in the distance. He then heard the Vicarstown Bridge go down as a huge engine rocketed past him and his train. Great Northern couldn't believe his eyes. The engine had been a Pacific tender engine as him but had a streamlined shape and was painted silver. Unfortunately, Great Northern wasn't able to catch the name on his nameplate.

"Steaming pistons!" he exclaimed. "An A4 out on the line Mainline?! And just _who_ was that?! What was that engine's number?"

"Didn't seem to have one," replied his driver. "Quite odd if you ask me."

"Quite. What kind of engine doesn't have a number in this day and age? I'll speak to the station master at Barrow."

And he did.

After terminating his first train, Great Northern got ready to take his fast train from Barrow down to the Knapford. However, as he looked about the station, Great Northern couldn't see any sign of the Duke and Duchess of Boxford anywhere. He called out to the station master.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?" the station master turned around, his arms behind his back. "How can I help you?"

"Pardon me, sir, but are the Duke and Duchess late? I can't seem to find them anywhere around the station. I was told that I would be taking them to Knapford with this train."

"I'm afraid there's been a mix-up," said the station master. "Apparently, the Duke and Duchess passed by not long ago aboard their own private engine that they've brought to Sodor."

"Private engine?" Then he thought about the silver A4 that passed him by as Vicarstown. "I see, so that's why I was delayed and why that engine was only pulling one brake coach. Very odd indeed. Looks like I'll have to find out who he is at Knapford."

Just then, the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. Great Northern was then away with a whistle of his own and a cloud of steam in his wake. By the time Great Northern was done with his train, he arrived at the sheds to see the A4 simmering quietly on the turntable, basking the sun. Gordon was also there, and he looked none too pleased to see the A4 too.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Gordon asked.

"He's Spencer!" exclaimed James from one of the shed berths. "He's the fastest steam engine in the world!"

"Pah!" Gordon snorted.

"Fastest engine in the world?" Great Northern repeated. "He can't be, that record belongs to Mall-"

" _I'm_ the Duke and Duchess' private engine," Spencer interrupted. "I take them wherever they want to go. They've told me that they're going to hold a party at Vicarstown tomorrow evening and of course, I'm to take them."

"Vicarstown, eh?" questioned Gordon. "You'd better take on plenty of water then. That station is on the other side of the island."

Spencer was indignant. "Thank you for that useless titbit of information, but I happen to know where that station is and I also know that I have plenty of water. Thank you very much!"

With that, Spencer wheeshed away.

Gordon was upset. "What's got him riled up? I was just trying to be helpful and give advice."

Great Northern watched as the A4 left the yard. "If you ask me, Gordon. Something isn't right with that engine." He then made his way onto the turntable. "I've got some time until my next train. I need to tell you some things."

Shortly afterward, the two Pacifics were in the sheds and were discussing Spencer.

"He said he was the fastest steam engine in the world," Gordon told his brother. "But I thought the fastest steam engine was our cousin, Mallard."

"You're right, Gordon," Great Northern agreed. "Mallard is indeed the fastest steam engine in the world and is currently displayed at the National Railway Museum at York. It seems that Spencer likes to tell some big ones."

"Pardon me, Great Northern, but you don't seem to like this Spencer very much. Didn't you know him back on the LNER?"

Great Northern looked at Gordon gravely. "Actually, Gordon. I've never once met an A4 by the name of Spencer."

Gordon was stunned. "What? Are you serious?! But you knew all of our friends and cousins on the LNER!"

"I did and I still do. You see, Gordon, this situation with Spencer is rather odd. He is a silver A4 and claims to be the fastest steam engine in the world. However, the batch that Mallard was part was built in the years of 1937 and 1938. They were painted the royal garter blue livery. In saying this though, the very first batch of A4s, the ones built in 1935, were all painted silver."

Now, Gordon was very curious. "Do you remember their names and numbers?"

"Absolutely. The pioneer of the class, like you and me, 2509 Silver Link. Then they went on as 2510 Quicksilver. 2511 Silver King. And 2512 Silver Fox. Those four A4s were famous for pulling _The Silver Jubilee_ , a flagship express that ran between King's Cross and Newcastle. A train made in honour of King George V's Silver Jubilee. I have a sneaking suspicion that Spencer is one of these engines, who should actually be scrapped."

Gordon was dumbstruck. "But why would any of our cousins want to keep their real names from us? Especially one of the original silver A4s?"

"That, my dear Gordon, is something that we will need to figure out. Let's try to keep a close eye on Spencer. Tell me anything about him, quirks or what not. I might just figure out who our mystery engine is."

The next day, Spencer showed the Duke and Duchess of Boxford many beautiful places across Sodor. Unfortunately for him, he was too conceited and was enjoying himself too much to take on any water wherever he stopped along the line. Gordon and Great Northern were at Knapford when Spencer raced through with the Duke and Duchess' train.

"I hope you've been filling up on water!" Great Northern called.

Spencer just scoffed. "Who cares?"

"Well, he'll be in trouble soon," Gordon sighed.

And he was.

By the time Spencer was halfway up Gordon's Hill, his tender had run out of water completely. His driver and fireman were adamant at their engine, after telling him several times to stop and refill, only to have Spencer rebuff them in turn. Now, the Duke and Duchess were going to be late for their party at Vicarstown.

"Oh, why didn't I listen?" Spencer moaned as he watched the Duke and Duchess exit their coach before giving him an earful.

Soon, a message was sent from the nearby signalman to Knapford as The Fat Controller was informed. He was just about to board the Wild Nor' Wester with Gordon to take to Vicarstown when the station master came running over to him. The Fat Controller turned to Gordon.

"Gordon, Spencer has run out of water and is stuck on your hill," he said. "I want you save him, the Duke and the Duchess, and bring them to Vicarstown."

Gordon grinned. "Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir."

The Fat Controller then looked to Great Northern. "Great Northern, could you take the Wild Nor' Wester with the guests and myself inside to Vicarstown while Gordon helps Spencer?"

"Of course, sir. I'd be delighted," Great Northern replied, grinning.

As Gordon left the station, he was looking forward to seeing Spencer stuck on his hill. He soon arrived to see Spencer looking very upset and not in the mood for chit-chat.

"Run out of water, Spencer?" Gordon asked, smirking.

"Yes!" Spencer snapped. "I-I must have a leaky tank!"

"Maybe so," Gordon smiled. "But everyone is waiting for us. Come along."

In no time at all, Gordon had switched tracks and was coupled up to Spencer as the pilot. Then, they set off. It was hard going for Gordon, but he arrived at Vicarstown just in the nick of time. The people at the station and some of the other engines all cheered for Gordon just as Great Northern also arrived with The Fat Controller and the other guests from the express.

"See?" Gordon asked, very pleased with himself. "Right on time."

Some of the engines began making jokes.

"Well, what do you think of Spencer now, James?" Emily asked.

"Too much puff and not enough steam!" James laughed.

Just then, The Fat Controller stepped out from one of the express coaches and stood in front of Gordon and Great Northern.

"Gordon, Great Northern!" he exclaimed, happy with his two big engines. "I am very pleased with your work today. Thank you both for saving Spencer and taking the express today. Now then, Great Northern, could you please shunt Spencer to a water tower. And Gordon, I would you to take the return express journey back to Knapford once the party is over."

"Yes, sir!" the two Pacifics cheered as they both set off to complete their tasks.

Soon, Great Northern shunted Spencer under a water tower close to the station. Spencer looked and felt miserable. He was very embarrassed and didn't feel like talking at all. However, he would get no respite from Great Northern.

"I hope you have learned something today about adhering to advice when wisely given, Spencer," Great Northern told him. "I can say for certain that Sir Nigel himself would not be impressed with your attitude today."

"I know..." Spencer sighed. "I'm certainly not doing our builder any justice."

"Indeed. But you still have time to change things around. However, if you keep acting as if you're above everyone else, then you'll have a hard time earning the respect of the engines here on this railway. Unlike you, I remember an old friend of mine who earned everyone's respect on the very first express train he took. A record breaker, in fact. Perhaps I shall leave you with that to think about."

And he did.

Great Northern then left as Spencer's fireman clambered up his tender. The last words uttered by Great Northern gave him pause. As he heard the water slowly filling up his corridor tender, Spencer thought back, thought back long ago, almost thirty years into the past.

"Maybe... Just maybe..." he muttered. "You have a point, old friend."

Over the coming weeks, Spencer continued to work hard for the Duke and Duchess. Taking them wherever they needed to go both on Sodor, and the Mainland. He didn't say much to the other engines as he did, until one day when he arrived at Knapford. His driver had good news for him.

"Well done, old boy!" he cheered. "You've broken Gordon's record!"

Unfortunately, Spencer became conceited once more.

"Of course, I did!" Spencer boasted proudly. "I've broken records before and I'm faster and finer than all the engines of Sodor put together!"

Hearing this, The Fat Controller's engines were very cross.

"He's nothing but a show-off!" Gordon grumbled. "Even after what happened a couple of weeks ago!"

Everyone agreed.

Just then, The Fat Controller appeared on the station platform and addressed the engines.

"Engines, a new branchline is being built beyond Maron Station. Along the branchline is a halt where the Duke and Duchess summerhouse is nearing completion. Spencer will take the Duke and Duchess to their Summerhouse and I need an engine to take their furniture."

The engines saw the chance for a race. The gathered engines called out eagerly to be picked, but The Fat Controller had already made up his mind.

"You all have jobs to do already. So, I have decided that Edward will take the furniture to the Summerhouse."

Gordon and James groaned.

"Fancy sending a banker engine to do an express engine's job," Gordon sniffed.

"He'll lose for sure and let us all down," James moaned.

Great Northern looked to Edward reassuringly. "Never mind them, old friend. Just take it slow and steady. There's no need to exert yourself."

"Thank you, Great Northern," Edward replied as looked to Spencer and started away, thinking to himself. _Just do my best. Just do my best._

Just then, Spencer heard his guard blow his whistle and waved his green flag. With a whistle of his own, Spencer was off and passed Edward by before clearing the station signal-box. A loud groan was heard back at the station by Gordon and James as Edward grimaced.

"I've won already!" Spencer boasted as he thundered away down the line.

Soon, Edward came to the bottom of a steep hill. The freight held down on his flatbed was quite heavy and he was already a little tired. He puffed on with all his might and was soon at the top. As he raced down the hill, he could see Spencer in the distance and gave chase. Spencer came to a stop at Wellsworth Station. The Duke and Duchess had wanted to buy some tea and cakes from The Refreshment Lady nearby. And as Spencer waited, Edward teetered into view, breathing heavily.

"Hurry up, old boy!" Spencer laughed. "Can't have you finishing too far behind me, now can we?"

Edward wished he could have a break, but the station master and the porters had also heard about the race and cheered for him as he went by. With the encouragement, Edward picked up as much steam as he could and proudly trundled past Spencer. Unfortunately, the Duke and Duchess had finished their tea and Spencer was off in a flash. Passing by Edward once more.

"Fastest and best. Fastest and best! That's me!" he chirruped.

Poor Edward felt nearly out of breath. The furniture felt heavier than ever. Once again, Spencer had come to a stop once more. The Duke wanted to take some photographs of the Sudrian countryside before finishing their journey to the Summerhouse. As the Duke and Duchess set up their camera, Spencer closed his eyes.

 _Nothing to worry about,_ he thought and went to sleep.

As Spencer slept, Bear made his way past light engine after making a delivery of mixed-goods to Vicarstown early that morning. He had heard about the race between Spencer and Edward and was most disappointed to see Spencer was ahead and sleeping no less.

"Oh, dear..." he murmured quietly. "I do hope Edward is not far behind." But Edward wasn't. Bear soon past him by and was very impressed. "Well done, Edward!" Bear cheered. "Keep going. You're a credit to the railway!"

Edward was so happy that his boiler tingled. He then found steam which he never knew he had. Soon, the Duke and Duchess had finished with their photographs and were ready to go. Spencer's driver and went to open the regulator. But nothing happened. The driver called again but Spencer still didn't hear him. He didn't hear Edward puffing past him either.

"SPENCER!" his driver shouted.

Spencer woke with a start. "Huh? Oh! What?"

To his horror, Spencer watched as Edward crossed over the branchline points in front of him. Edward continued to puff bravely on as Spencer started as quickly as he could. Unfortunately for Spencer, his driver had to decrease steam once they carried on over to the branchline. There was no way an A4 like him could go fast as usual an branchline track like those. With every turn of his wheels, Spencer knew that he had lost the race.

Meanwhile, Edward pulled up alongside the summerhouse and its platform. "I've won!" he gasped. "I did it!" Edward felt as though he was the pride of the North-Western Railway. And he was.

Later that night at the sheds, Edward was treated as a celebrity by the Mainline engines. They all hollered after Edward and Bear told them about Spencer sleeping during the race. And ironically, it had been a great retelling of _The Tortoise and the Hare_ but done so by engines. The Sudrian engines thought it was a great joke, but Spencer didn't. He sat by himself in a siding as he took on water, Great Northern puffed down next to him.

"It seems your hubris got the better of you," he said. "Again."

Spencer glowered at the A1. "Come to gloat have you? Make fun of me as well like the others?"

"No. I'm here to tell you that I'm disappointed in you, Spencer," Great Northern told him gravely. "You come here, swagger around like you own the place and get your comeuppance. However, it seems to me that you're not understanding the lesson that you're supposed to be learning."

"And just what would that be?" Spencer scoffed.

"Humility for one thing," Great Northern answered. "It is true that you have the honour of being one of Sir Nigel's grandest designs. The LNER A4 Pacific. However, I've known many of my cousins, your brothers and sisters to get too big for their buffers and let their fame get to their smokeboxes. There were a few that were always humble, four in fact. I thought that you would also join them, but I see that I am wrong. It takes maturity to be humble, rather than being arrogant. _That_ is the measure of a truly Gresley engine."

Spencer said nothing as the two Pacifics watched as the Duke and Duchess made their way through the yard.

"Tell me, Spencer," Great Northern continued. "What do you think of the Duke and Duchess? How do they make you feel?"

Spencer paused for a moment. "I... I owe them everything. And it makes me happy to see them so in love together too."

"Ah, yes. True love. A beautiful thing, is it not? _True love's the gift which God has given  
To man alone beneath the heaven; It is not fantasy's hot fire, whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, with dead desire it doth not die; It is the secret sympathy, the silver link, the silken tie, which heart to heart, and mind to mind, in body and in soul can bind._ A lovely poem by Sir Walter Scott, wouldn't you agree?"

Spencer's jaw dropped as he struggled to find his words. "Y-Yes... I-I... It really is a... uh... lovely poem. I-I quite agree."

Great Northern only smiled. "I thought you'd might." With that, Great Northern left Spencer alone with the Duke and Duchess and returned to the sheds next to Gordon. "Gordon."

"Great Northern," Gordon replied curtly. "Tell me, what were you discussing with Spencer just now?"

"Oh, just about his behaviour for one thing." Great Northern stopped with his next sentence as he made sure that the other engines were listening to Edward, as they all were. Great Northern whispered quietly to Gordon. "I think I've figured out who Spencer really is."

Gordon was very surprised by this but managed to keep his voice down. "You have? Truly?"

"Yes. Now, we just have to wait for the right moment to confront him about it."

"Do you know when that moment will be?"

"Patience, Gordon. Patience."

 **To Be Continued...**


	16. Chapter 16

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 16

 **Spencer's Dark Secret**

It was special day for the engines of Sodor. It was the 3rd of July on the year of 1970. It was the 32nd anniversary of the Mallard's record breaking run of 126mph, which made the engine the fastest running steam locomotive in the world in 1938. From then on, Mallard's record would never be conquered by another steam engine ever again.

Every 3rd of July, the island was swarmed by tourists eager to see the engines all at work. Including the Mallard's cousins like Gordon and Great Northern. Summer was already a busy enough time for the North-Western Railway, and the 3rd of the July was one of the busiest. Because of this, The Fat Controller was forced to schedule more passenger trains and he happened to be in need of another engine. Thankfully, some friends of his were more than happy to lend one to him.

Spencer grumbled angrily as he crossed over the Vicarstown Bridge, from the Mainland to Sodor. Of all the days he would be put to work, it just had to be this day. The day when Mallard made his historic run. And to make matters worse, the Duke and Duchess had decided to let him pull trains for The Fat Controller too!

"In honour of Mallard's record," he mocked childishly. "Pah! I'd rather be back at Doncaster for all I care. I swear, it's like this every year for that blasted duck in that clapped-out museum."

"Now, now, Spencer," soothed his driver, patting him on his cab-side. "There's no need for you to act jealous."

"Jealous?!" Spencer spluttered. "I am not jealous, driver! I am merely annoyed, that's it, annoyed!"

"So, he says," his fireman smirked as he and the driver both chortled. Spencer ignored them, finding them both very silly indeed.

In no time at all, Spencer pulled into Platform 3 of Knapford. He watched as the Duke and Duchess disembarked from their coaches as The Fat Controller greeted them warmly. Spencer wished that he could be shut up in shed by now, waiting for this whole day to be over so everything would get back to normal.

"Thank you again for donating Spencer to the railway for the next couple of days, sir, ma'am," The Fat Controller told the Duke and Duchess grateful.

"Of course, Sir Charles!" The Duke beamed. "Why, I think it would do Spencer good to pull some proper trains again. Just like his old days back on the East Coast Mainline."

"Oh, absolutely!" agreed the Duchess as she turned back to Spencer. "Spencer! Do put on a great show for Sir Charles and the tourists, will you not?"

Spencer barely managed a fake smile. "Of course, ma'am. Whatever you say."

"There's a good engine!" the Duchess cheered. "Good show! Jolly good show!"

"And do make sure you behave yourself, Spencer," The Duke said sternly. "I don't want a repeat of you causing trouble for the other engines and making an embarrassment of yourself too."

Spencer felt very embarrassed, being reminded of the two times he had gotten his comeuppance not long ago. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I will, sir."

"Very good."

With that, the Duke and Duchess left the station as The Fat Controller strode up in front of Spencer. "Spencer," he said. "Thank you for agreeing to help my railway out for the next few days."

 _Not that I had much choice in the matter..._ Spencer thought grimly as he smiled to The Fat Controller. "Not a problem, sir. It'll be nice to run on a real railway again. Will I be taking the Wild Nor' Wester then?"

"I'm afraid not," The Fat Controller replied, shaking his head. "Gordon is handling the Wild Nor' Wester as he always is. So, I need you take other fast trains that I've scheduled along the Mainline."

Spencer was flabbergasted. "I'm not going to be working with a named express train?! Why, this is absolutely outrageous! I-" Spencer stopped once he saw the stern look on The Fat Controller's face. If looks could kill. "I-I mean, uh... Whatever you need, sir, I'll do."

At that, The Fat Controller smiled again. "Thank you. Now then, if you would get yourself to Platform 1, Jinty will have your coaches ready shortly."

"Yes, sir..." Spencer rumbled darkly.

And with that, The Fat Controller left. Spencer reluctantly changed tracks and backed down onto Platform 1 of the Big Station. Soon, he felt the coaches buffer up behind him thanks to Jinty, Knapford's station pilot.

Jinty sidled up alongside him. "Good morning, Spencer. Ready to do some real work for a change?"

"I already do real work, thank you!" Spencer snorted. "Taking the Duke and Duchess wherever they need to go is very important, no matter what you say."

"Whatever you say, Spencer. Anyway, would you like me to give you a push as you start?"

"Push?" Spencer scoffed. "From a little tank engine like you? Don't bother. The only engine who could give me a push would have to be a N2, now those were real tank engines, let me tell you."

Jinty rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Spencer. Anyway, just to let you know, your stops towards Vicarstown will be Maron, Killaban, Cabalnoo and Kellsthorpe Road. Think you can remember that?"

"Well, even if I don't, my crew certainly will," Spencer snorted as Jinty decided to leave.

Soon, Spencer was thundering down the Mainline at speed. At first, he had to get used to taking more coaches than he usually had to for the Duke and Duchess, but soon got over it once he passed by Crosby. By the time he reached Gordon's Hill, Spencer shot over the crest and coasted down on his way towards Maron.

 _So much for that hill when you've got enough water and when you're running express,_ Spencer thought smugly, glad that he wasn't going to be stuck on Gordon Hill's like last time.

Shortly after, Spencer pulled smoothly into his first stop at Maron Station. On the platform happened to be a young mother and her son. The boy was very excited when he saw Spencer pull into the station. He thought that he was Mallard coming to pick them up and take them to Vicarstown.

"Mummy! Mummy, look!" the boy cried. "It's the world's fastest steam engine ever!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie," replied the boy's mother. "That's the not the fastest steam engine. Mallard is back in York on display at the National Railway Museum. This is just another engine just like Mallard."

"Oh..." The boy looked down, disheartened. "That's a shame..."

Spencer had overheard them and was very annoyed. " _Just_ another one of Mallard's class? A _shame_?! Oh, the absolute nerve!"

"Now, now, Spencer," said his driver. "They just don't know any better. Come on, let's get going, shall we?"

Spencer sighed. "Very well then..."

Spencer started off once more and in no time, he shot down the Mainline Loop in tremendous fashion as he stopped along the way to both Killaban and Cabalnoo. Slowly but surely, Spencer was becoming much happier.

He was being reminded more and more of his days on the LNER running as an express engine from King's Cross to all the major stations across the East Coast Mainline. Unfortunately, Spencer's good mood was short lived once he reached Kellsthorpe Road. A photographer was the on platform and took a picture of him once he had come to a stop at the station. The photographer, sadly, seemed less than satisfied.

"A good picture of an A4," the photographer said to himself. "Shame about the inauthentic livery though. Just silver-grey with no number at all. Could have been garter blue, apple-green, BR blue or even BR Brunswick, but no, none of them at all. Whatever is the world of steam coming to these days?"

The man entered one of Spencer's coaches while shaking his head. Spencer was beside himself with rage and couldn't help but complain about what he had just heard.

"My livery? He was upset about my livery?!" he spluttered. "Honestly, who the hell cares?! I rather like my livery as it is! And I he doesn't like it, he can bloody well shove it up his-"

"That's enough!" snapped his fireman. "Spencer, there's no point complaining about what that man said about you. What is it going to get you?"

"It'll let me blow of some steam for one thing," Spencer murmured childishly.

"You can do that through your cylinder cocks," his driver remarked with a pat on Spencer's cab. "Come on, just our last stop of Vicarstown now. Then you can take a break and have a nice drink. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like good compensation to me," Spencer muttered as he left Kellsthorpe Road fuming.

Spencer was just calming down once he arrived at Vicarstown but was going to have his bubble burst as soon as his train was terminated. A passer-by on the station's platform had noticed Spencer and decided that it was a good idea to walk up to him and give him a piece of his mind.

"What kind of farce is this?" the man scoffed. "Is the NWR seriously trying to con us all?"

Spencer was taken aback. "Con you? What are you on about?"

"I'm talking about you!" the man shouted, pointing an angry finger at Spencer. "Today is supposed to be a day marking the Mallard's run and the NWR thought it would be a good joke to run an A4 on the Mainline instead of the actual Mallard?! They may as well not have bothered at all, if you ask me. The least they could have done is run an A4 that actually broke a record, like Silver Fox or Sir Nigel Gresley even. You're just a waste of steam!"

At this barrage of abuse, with one of his eye twitching, Spencer lost all patience. He glared daggers at the man as his face went redder than that of an apple. He suddenly blew his whistle long and hard before exploding at the man fiercely.

"How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!" he boomed, frightening the man and some other nearby passengers. "How are dare you speak like that to me! I have done nothing to warrant any such rudeness and you berate me for no reason at all. And another thing, I _am_ a record breaking A4! I broke the fastest steam record in 1935! I obliterated it too!"

"That's impossible!" the man shot back. "I don't recall any record breaking in 1935."

"Pah! Then you're worse off for it!" Spencer snorted, blowing steam at the man. "Of course some twit like you wouldn't know! I knew no one would remember, that no one would remember me, remember who I really was!"

The station fell silent as the heavy breathing of Spencer was the only thing that could be heard. However, a young girl was the one who was carrying the burning wick.

"Who... Who are you then?"

"SILVER LINK!" Spencer bellowed. "MY NAME IS SILVER LINK, YOU IDIOTS!"

Spencer was well and truly off on one now. There was no holding him back.

"LNER 2509! Do any of those things mean anything to you people?! I was one of the Silver Streaks who pulled _The Silver Jubilee_ in honour of His Majesty, King George V! I was the first LNER A4! ME! I broke the fastest steam locomotive before Mallard did! I DID! I am tired of being mistreated and being forgotten about by everyone when I was left for scrap while Mallard was sent and stuffed in that blasted museum at York! I used to be admired, respected even! But no more! Well, I've had enough... you're not going to get honour of even seeing Silver Link because I'm out of here! Enjoy your stupid anniversary, and I hope you choke on it too!"

Despite the objections from his driver and fireman to do otherwise, Spencer stormed off out of the station and backed down into a siding. His crew and the station master told him off, but Spencer didn't care. He thought and knew that the rude passenger and the other passengers deserved to hear him out and have him tell them off for once. He had bottled up years of anger for so long, and had it come erupting out.

If he was being honest, Spencer didn't care what was going to happen next. He felt completely justified in doing what he had done. Not even The Fat Controller could make him feel bad. Soon, hours passed by. The other engines stopped and passed through Vicarstown, making glances at him as word had spread around as he got many a look from passengers, workmen, porters and even the station master as they all looked at him.

Spencer took no notice and brooded bitterly.

Just then, he saw a familiar face arrive at the station with a stopping passenger train. He watched as Great Northern was uncoupled from his train and rolled up alongside him on the adjacent track next to him. Great Northern looked to Spencer sympathetically and smiled knowingly.

"So, the truth is finally out, is it?" he asked, softly.

Spencer looked down at his buffers, ashamed. "You always knew, didn't you?"

"I had my suspicious, yes," Great Northern admitted. "I knew that you were either Silver Link or Silver King. Of course, Quicksilver and Silver Fox were out of the equation since they were both female. Still, me saying that poem with your name in it was just a way for me to determine which one of the Silver Streaks you really were. And I knew exactly after your reaction the other day." Great Northern then looked at his A4 cousin seriously. "The Duke and Duchess saved you from scrap, didn't they?"

"They did..." Spencer murmured, a tear threatening to trickle down his face. "I was withdrawn from service in 1962 like you were and I was going to be scrapped in September of that '63. However, the Duke and Duchess managed to find and buy me. Apparently, the Duke remembered me during my inaugural run from King's Cross to Newcastle when he was just a young man. They say he jumped at the chance to buy me once he heard I was withdrawn from service."

"And from that day forth, you've been the Duke and Duchess' loyal private engine ever since, haven't you?" Great Northern inquired.

"Yes, I have..." Spencer muttered as that tear finally tricked down his face. "Out of everyone in the world, they were only ones who remembered me and what I had done. If they hadn't saved me, I was scrap for sure. I can never thank them enough for what they did to save my life. But even then, I've just felt so jealous and bitter ever since my withdrawal and when I learned that Mallard had immediately been snatched up by the NRM. I felt that myself, Quicksilver, Silver King and Silver Fox should have been saved as well. We were the original Silver A4s anyway. But in the end, we were all sent for scrap and were forgotten about. And even now, I feel guilty that I was even saved and yet they weren't."

The was silence in the yard for a short while. Spencer was silently mourning the loss of his closest siblings while Great Northern was carefully considering his next words.

"Spencer... I mean, Silver Link, old friend, I know exactly how you feel." Great Northern watched as Spencer looked to him, a clear sign that he wanted Great Northern to continue. "Truth be told, I felt just as bitter if not more after those twenty years in my rebuild. I was depressed and ready for the end to take me. I thought it was all over until The Fat Controller came to Doncaster and bought me. Saving me from the scrapper's torch. I know that feeling of bitterness and betrayal well, Silver Link. But there's one thing that you must understand about such feelings. Those feelings, much like revenge, they eat at you. They poison you. Turn you into someone else you're not. They can take you over. For so many years, I was so bitter and I took it out all those who cared about me. I didn't remember who I was, and I became someone else entirely. Literally and figuratively. Silver Link, please, don't make the same mistake I made. I remember taking my feelings out on someone who really cared about me, and every waking moment of my life now, I regret it."

Spencer said nothing as he looked down at his buffers and then to Great Northern before smiling. "Thank you, Great Northern. I needed to hear that. And another thing... it's good to have the real you back."

Great Northern beamed. "And it's good to have the real you back too, Silver Link. Now, why don't you come back to Tidmouth with me? You can tell the other engines everything and really introduce yourself to them. I can assure you that they will welcome you with open buffers."

Spencer grinned. "Sounds like a smashing idea, old boy."

"Now _that_ ," Great Northern chuckled, "sounds like the old Silver Link I knew."

With that, the two engines ran light engine together all the way back to Tidmouth.

At Tidmouth Sheds, Edward, Henry, James, Emily, Gordon, Jinty, BoCo and Bear were talking amongst themselves before going to sleep when Great Northern and Spencer pulled up in front of them. They had all heard about Spencer's outburst earlier that morning and were curious to see whether or not he was telling the truth. As Great Northern backed down into his berth, Spencer began his story.

"I was built at Doncaster in 1935 as the pioneer of the A4 Pacific class design by Sir Nigel Gresley. I was the first of four A4s who were known as the Silver Streaks of the LNER. My brother and sisters, Silver King, Quicksilver, Silver Fox and myself all pulled _The Silver Jubilee_ between King's Cross and Newcastle in honour of King George V. On my inaugural run, the 29th of September 1935, I broke the speed record previously set by my cousin, 2750 Papyrus. Who had beaten Flying Scotsman's 100mph run before."

"You ran 112.5mph on that day, didn't you?" said Edward, smiling at Spencer.

Spencer chortled. "Yes, I did. I was so happy on that day, and Sir Nigel was so proud of me as well. Soon, I was known all over the LNER and beloved by all, especially at Top Shed. And I'll admit, the fame may have gotten to my smokebox at one point, until I was put back on the right track thanks to a certain engine numbered 4470 at the time." He winked to Great Northern who chortled.

Jinty was curious. "So, Papyrus beat Scotsman and you beat Papyrus, does that mean Mallard beat your record?"

"No, it wasn't Mallard," Spencer replied, slightly amused. "Silver Fox was the one who beat me by running 113mph in 1936. While I was a little upset that my record had been taken away, all in all, I was actually rather proud of her. All of us at Top Shed were."

Henry spoke next. "Didn't an LMS engine break the speed record too? I seem to recall they did, but I can't remember which engine."

"You mean LMS Coronation Scot 6220, Henry. Coronation herself. On 29th of June 1937 Coronation set a new speed record of 114mph. She, like me, was the pioneer of her class and we became quite the rivals. I tried time and time again to beat her record in order to hold up the LNER's honour and name, but the time was never right. That was until the next year when Mallard ran 126mph in 1938. Our little brother had completely obliterated the opposition that day and it was glorious. It actually reminded me of myself too. In any case, we were all proud of our young Mallard and I still am."

"Then why do the passengers say that you hate him so much?" Bear asked.

"Yes, they said that you told them to go and choke on Mallard's record anniversary for all that you cared," BoCo added. "You really don't hate your brother, don't you?"

Spencer sighed heavily. "No, you're right. I don't hate Mallard. As I said, I'm really proud of him and I still am. The fact of the matter is, after I was withdrawn and put on the sidings, I was just so jealous and bitter when he was sent to NRM while I wasn't. The pioneer engine of my class. I felt betrayed, humiliated, bitter and forgotten. All until... the Duke and Duchess saved me."

"The Duke and Duchess?" repeated James. "You mean the Duke and Duchess of Boxford?"

"Yes, the very same." Spencer then explained about the Duke being a younger man when he saw Silver Link in his inaugural run in 1935. "He had remembered me when all others hadn't. It's the reason why I will go anywhere and do anything for him and the Duchess. They saved me and gave me a new lease of life. I'd do almost anything for them."

Gordon was still a little puzzled. "But why the change of livery? And how did you become known as Spencer?"

Spencer smiled sheepishly. "Ah, yes. That. You see, with my new life, I wanted a brand-new start. Including both livery and my name. The Duke was a friend of Mr. Bert Spencer. Great Northern, you remember him, don't you?"

"Bert Spencer, you say?" Great Northern asked as it suddenly clicked. "Oh, you mean Sir Nigel's technical assistant! Oh, yes. I remember him very well, a lovely fellow indeed."

"Quite," Spencer agreed. "So, I had my name changed to Spencer and my livery as you now see it today. From there, I wanted to prove myself every day that I was worthy of being preserved. The fact that I would always be in steam unlike Mallard. And I'm afraid that in my determination and bitterness, I had forgotten who I truly was. I'm not Spencer. My true name is..."

"...Silver Link," Emily interrupted, the Stirling Single smiling warmly at the silver A4. "No. 2509 of the LNER. Pioneer of the A4 Class designed by Sir Nigel Gresley. That's who you are. And let nobody tell you otherwise."

Suddenly, there was a rousing cheer from all of the engines from all over the sheds. Spencer found it hard to not be overwhelmed as he squeezed out a grateful tear out from his eye. He felt as though a weight had been lifted off his boiler after so long. He had no idea why he hadn't said anything to anyone else soon. As the cheers continued, Spencer looked to Great Northern and mouthed the words:

"Thank you."

Great Northern grinned as he also mouthed back to his cousin: "You're welcome."

Later that night, Spencer spoke to the Duke about something he had on his mind. The Duke, at first, was very surprised at what Spencer had asked from him. But then, he just smiled and pat Spencer one of his buffers.

"So, you've finally remembered who you are, Silver Link," he said. "I'm delighted to hear that you've had a change of heart. Despite everything that has happened to you."

"Yes, sir," Spencer agreed. "I must admit, even though I exploded at Vicarstown and told the other engines everything, it felt very cathartic."

"I should hope so. You know, it takes real courage for anyone to admit their true feelings, especially fear and any other vulnerabilities. I'm proud of you, Silver Link. I'm very proud you."

Spencer couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot." Spencer then thought of something. "Sir, I think I have an idea, and I hope you'll agree."

"Oh? And what idea would this be then?"

"One I'm sure you're going to like."

For the next few days, Spencer worked hard for The Fat Controller, pulling fast trains all over the island. The passengers and the engines all had a new-found respect for him after seeing just how well he could work on a real railway. But when his time working on the NWR was over, Spencer was then sent to the Steamworks for a suspicious amount of time. Strangely though, none of the other engines that visited where allowed to see him. Spencer at the Steamworks soon became a hot topic at the sheds.

"Is he having an overhaul?" asked Henry.

"Or maybe he's being repaired?" inquired James.

"Maybe a new coat of the paint?" Jinty suggested. "He has been working hard lately, and I think he deserves it."

"Then why all the secrecy?" Gordon grunted. "I swear, he's up to something."

"Surely it can't be anything that bad," said Emily. "Nothing bad has come out of the Steamworks yet. Just look at Great Northern and his overhaul."

Great Northern blushed. "You flatter me, my dear."

"Not enough in my mind."

Bear rolled his eyes. "If you two are quite finished, can we get back to the topic at hand?"

BoCo let out a yawn. "I don't see what the big fuss is about. Who cares what's going on with Spencer at the Steamworks, really?"

"I couldn't agree more," Edward agreed. "What's going on with Spencer at the Steamworks is none of our business. Besides, I'm sure we'll find out what's going with him sooner or later."

"Hold that thought, Edward!" Great Northern interjected. "Here he comes now!"

The engines watched as Spencer pulled into the shed area smoothly, gliding in like a gracious hawk. However, something was different which surprised every one of the Mainline engines. Instead of his silver-grey livery, Spencer now had white-ish boiler cladding, black smokebox, cab roof and tender top, with light grey frames and dark grey valances.

Not only that, Spencer had his real name, 'Silver Link' written in grey and blue-outline on his boiler with the number '2509' on his cab sides, and the letters 'LNER' written on either side of his tender. All of the engines were amazed, they didn't think that an engine could look so bright. To Great Northern though, he felt as though he had watched Spencer come out of Doncaster for the first time as Silver Link.

"Hello, everyone!" Spencer called, blowing his whistle cheerfully. "What do you think?"

"I don't believe it..." Gordon murmured.

Henry was also in disbelief. "You... Spencer, you look..."

"...Splendid!" James cut in. "I don't think I've ever seen such a livery like this before! Is this what you looked like when you were first built?"

"Indeed, I was," Spencer smiled. "Back when I was just a young engine coming out of Doncaster. You have no idea how much I've missed my first livery. I feel so young and rejuvenated with it on me once more."

"Well, since you're back in your old livery, why don't you tell us about your inaugural run to Newcastle and other stories about the East Coast Mainline, Spencer?" beseeched BoCo.

Spencer could only grin. "I thought you'd never ask, my dear BoCo. And please, I'd like to be called by my true name now. Silver Link. Not Spencer anymore. Silver Link."

"Very well then, Silver Link," Bear acquiesced, "Tell us a story, won't you?"

And Silver Link did.

From that day forth, Silver Link the first A4 was a very happy engine indeed. He still works for the Duke and Duchess as their private engine, but from time to time, you can see him thundering down the Mainline with a line of coaches in his wake giving rail-tours across Britain as he also helps out the engines of the NWR whenever they need it or when the Duke is feeling generous to lend him.

And thanks to this, Silver Link's return to the rails exploded all over Sodor and the Mainland. Railway magazines, the newspapers and even the news on the television could speak of nothing else but Silver Link and his return. And much to the A4's surprise, many people cheered for him at every station he passed.

 _They really did remember me,_ Silver Link thought with people cheering him as he passed. _They really did remember._

 **EPILOGUE:**

Four engines had been grouped together somewhere in the National Railway Museum. Oddly enough, they were all steam engines and one from each of the Big Four railway companies of old. The first was an LMS streamlined Coronation Scot engine, the next was an old GWR City class engine, then came an oddly shaped 0-6-0 freight tender engine from the Southern Railway and finally, a Gresley streamlined A4 with a beautiful garter blue livery from the LNER.

They were none other than Mallard, the Duchess of Hamilton, City of Truro and Bulleid the Q1. Or Bull as he was known by the others for short. All four engines had once again sat through another day of wide-eyed visitors to the NRM with countless photographs being taken. Mallard on this particular early morning, was complaining to his compatriots.

"I must admit, don't people have any sense of respect nowadays?" he complained. "Why, just yesterday, I had these two boys sitting on my buffers while one of their parents took a photo. Of course, I smiled and was nice, but surely they should know how to treat engine properly."

"Oh, buck up, Mallard," City of Truro quipped. "It was just a little harmless fun, wasn't it? It's not like they scratched your paint-work, or anything did they? They were just kids, let them have their fun."

Mallard rolled his eyes. "I understand that, Truro. All I'm saying is that the visitors, including children, should treat us engines with respect. We were preserved for a reason, after all."

"I think you're being petty, dear," Duchess of Hamilton sniffed.

Mallard would have wheeshed steam if he could. "Petty?! Oh, petty indeed!"

"Yes, petty," Duchess of Hamilton continued. "I honestly don't know what you're complaining about. It's just things that happen here. Why, I had some lovely young men and women ask me about the good old days. I was more than delighted to tell them. I was just so glad to fill their young minds with imagination of what happened during my time on the LMS. Racing through the Midlands at high speed. Euston to Glasgow! The race was the on!"

"Honestly, I have to agree with Mallard on this one," Bull interrupted. "I mean, I can't count how many times I've been called 'weird' or 'ugly' by some snot-nosed kid. You lot are lucky that you were built to look nice. I was just made with the bare essentials. Only the odd enthusiasts who actually bother to take the time to research know about how useful we were for freight"

"And don't get me started on the chain-driven valve gear with those spamcan cousins of yours, Bull," Truro groaned.

Bull was very offended. "Don't you dare call them 'spamcans', Truro! They were revolutionary Pacifics for their time!"

"Then how come some of them needed rebuilds, hmm?"

"Faults could happen to any engine! And I still find your claim on 100mph to be hazy too!"

"Hazy?! Why I ought to-"

"Enough!" Mallard bellowed before sighing heavily. "Now I've regretted speaking at all. However, you all bring up valid points. So, with that in mind, I think we can agree that we are here in this museum to teach the new generations about the ways of the railways. About our time and about the steam era in general. While I don't appreciate intrusions of some kind of my being, I understand the importance that we all carry here. In sense, we're all time capsules. Each and every one of us."

Duchess of Hamilton beamed. "Well said, darling. Well said!"

"I must admit, you do have a point, Mallard," Truro agreed.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Bull relented as he and Truro stopped glaring at each other.

Just then, before any of the engines could start talking again, the head curator of the museum came running over to them with a newspaper in hand, waving frantically at them.

"Mallard! Duchess! Truro! Bull!" he called. "You'll never believe what's on the front paper of the Sun!"

"What's this? Let me see," said Bull as he read the cover of the newspaper first. "By Jove! I can't be!"

"What can't be?" Truro asked as the curator put the newspaper in front of him. "Oh, sweet Brunel! That's impossible!"

"Be a dear and bring it over to me, would you?" Duchess asked as the curator held the newspaper in front of her to read next. "But... that can't be true! How is that possible?"

Mallard was getting fed up quick. "What's going on? Oh, just tell me already, will you?" The curator held the newspaper up in front of Mallard as the A4 began to read it. "Oh, my Gresley! I... I don't believe it!"

On the front page was a picture of Silver Link pulling an express train on Sodor as the headline read: _**LNER 2509 SILVER LINK HAS RETURNED FROM SCRAP AND IS BACK IN STEAM!**_

The first paragraphs read:

 _Silver Link, the iconic pioneer locomotive of Sir Nigel Gresley's illustrious A4 design, who was long-thought to be scrapped, has suddenly resurfaced from out of nowhere on the North-Western Railway of the Island of Sodor._

 _An exclusive interview with Sir Charles Topham Hatt reveals just what happened to Silver Link which includes the Duke and Duchess of Boxford themselves. It all started in late 1962 when Silver Link was withdrawn by British Railways..._

Mallard truly couldn't believe it. He thought that his eldest brother, his idol, had been scrapped. And now, he was alive and in working order. After such a long time, after being withdrawn by British Railways, Mallard, was for once, happy. Happy for his eldest brother.


	17. Chapter 17

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 17

 **Toothache**

Bill and Ben, the tank engines, work at the China Clay Pits near Brendam Docks beyond Edward's Branchline. Often, you will see the twins shunting trains around the pits or taking loaded trains to the docks to be transported elsewhere. The twins know that their work is important, of which they take pride in. However, it can get very hot and dirty indeed. One Summer day, the sun was beating down so hot on the engines, that this made Bill and Ben very hot and bothered to say the least.

The twins sat in front a forked intersection of track, on the straight part was a line of trucks filled with China Clay. Both of the twins were eager to get as much work as done as possible, so they could get a rest to cool off. However, they had reckoned without the other.

"That's my line of trucks!" Bill huffed.

"It's not, it's mine!" Ben scoffed. " _Yours_ are over there!" He indicated to another siding filled to the brim with trucks full of china clay.

Bill took no notice.

"S'mine!"

"S'not!"

"S'mine!"

"S'not!"

BoCo, the big diesel who had been resting nearby, saw their argument and was quick to stop them at once. He trundled over and looked at them sternly.

"That's enough of that, you two," he said. "Or the only thing you have left to share is..." Both twins suddenly moved off without warning, crashing into each other and derailing once the two tracks converged into one. BoCo rolled his eyes. "...trouble."

"Silly!" snapped Bill.

"Silly yourself!" grumbled Ben.

Just then, the quarry manager came walking over to the twins, he was very annoyed and made his point clear and blunt.

"Bill and Ben!" he shouted, which almost made Bill and Ben jump out of their frames. "Behave yourselves or I will send you to your sheds! It has become abundantly clear to me that we need another engine to help us here at the pits. We have a very important contract to fulfil and I can't have any more delays. It's bad enough that you've derailed each other just now which is going to set us back by having you re-railed when you can be working. Thankfully, I've found a new engine to help, he's new and ready to make an impression." The manager turned to BoCo. "If you could fetch the breakdown crew for Bill and Ben that would be much appreciated." He looked back to Bill and Ben. "And no more tricks! Especially on the new engine!"

The manager then strode crossly away to his office. Leaving Bill and Ben feeling very ashamed of themselves, and quite nervous about this new engine.

"Bill, Ben, if I were you," BoCo whispered forebodingly, "I'd get back to work with no fuss as soon as I'm re-railed."

BoCo then rolled away to Brendam to collect the breakdown crew for Bill and Ben. As he did, the Manager was having second thoughts about this new engine he was bringing in to help out.

 _I hope this new diesel doesn't cause any more trouble, h_ e pondered hopefully. _His class is infamous for engine failures. He's bound to have teething troubles._

And he was right.

Derek, a Class 17 diesel was making his way up Gordon's Hill after passing through Maron. He had had a smooth journey so far along the Sudrian Mainline, but once he reached the hill, he was in for trouble.

"Oh, my grease and oil!" he groaned as a spluttering sound was then heard from his engine. "I say, what's that?" His wheels spun and then there was trouble. Black plumes of smoke spewed out of his engine as Derek stalled right on the hill. "Oh, bother!"

Back at Brendam, BoCo was telling Edward all about Bill and Ben and what had happened at Clay Pits after re-railing the twins with the breakdown crew.

"I know that it's hot today, Edward," he said. "But that doesn't give Bill and Ben the right to act silly. If this keeps up, then the Clay Pits will miss out on their contract. And missing that contract could very well put the whole Clay Pits into jeopardy."

Edward grimaced knowingly. "You're right, BoCo. However, if what you said about the Manager being stern with Bill and Ben is true, then we shouldn't have any more problems from them. Let's just hope this new engine can help speed things up."

"We can only hope," BoCo agreed with a deep sigh.

Just then, the harbourmaster came running over towards them. "BoCo, you and the breakdown crew must get to Gordon's Hill right away! The new engine has stalled on and can't move. We need to get him working and off the Mainline as soon as possible. Mainline trains cannot be delayed."

"Aye, aye, sir," BoCo acknowledged as he looked to Edward. "I think we spoke too soon, Edward. Goodbye."

"Indeed, we did," Edward agreed solemnly, watching as BoCo left with the breakdown crew once more.

As BoCo made his way towards Gordon's Hill, he wondered what kind of engine had failed on Gordon's Hill. He got his answer once he had reached hill. To his surprise, he saw a Class 17 diesel with black fumes spewing out from his exhausts. A great sense of déjà vu filled BoCo immediately as he pulled up alongside Derek who was looking very glum indeed.

"I'm terribly sorry," Derek said to BoCo. "I'm all hot and bothered, as you can see by my overheated engine. Got teething troubles, you know?"

"I can certainly see that," BoCo remarked. "And I can sympathise, I had the exact same problem as you before I came to this railway."

Derek's eyes widened. "You did?! Wait a minute, you're a Metrovick, aren't you?"

BoCo beamed. "Yes, I am. I'm BoCo. What's your name?"

"I'm Derek," Derek replied, thankful to meet a kind engine like BoCo. "Please don't get the wrong impression, BoCo. I didn't overheat my engine on purpose. This just tends to happen whenever I'm forced to go up gradients. And this one, might I add, is a doozy."

BoCo chuckled. "Well, you're not wrong there. Many an engine has been caught on this hill. So, you're the not first to be stuck. Actually, it's named after our resident express engine on our railway."

Derek was very surprised. "Really? I never would have thought."

"Neither did Gordon," BoCo snickered.

News soon spread down the line about Derek and his engine trouble. Thomas and Percy were at Tidmouth when they heard the news.

"Apparently, it's teething troubles," Thomas confided to Percy. "Bill and Ben may have their buffers full with this new engine."

"Glad it's not us!" laughed Percy as he made his way down to the Clay Pits to collect some trucks filled with China Clay. When he arrived, he whistled to Bill and Ben. "Hey, you two! This new diesel coming here has got toothache. Good luck!" Percy then scampered away to collect his trucks.

Bill was concerned. "Why does Percy want to wish us good luck?"

"Because he knows we'll need it," snapped Ben. "A diesel with toothache must be the worst kind of diesel ever!"

The manager strode over to them. "Bill and Ben, the both of you will take your first load to Maron tonight. There's hard work to be done tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," the twins muttered as they hurried off to organise their trains.

It was dark by the time the twins reached Maron Station, they left their first load of trucks in a siding and scurried off back towards Edward's Branchline. Soon, they arrived at Brendam and backed down into the shed next to Edward. Edward saw how down they were.

"You two look glum," he remarked.

"It's this new diesel," replied Bill. "They say he's got toothache."

"Toothache?" Edward laughed."You mean he's got teething troubles. This means he's new and this causes some problems. In this case, it's his cooling system."

Next morning at the Clay Pits, just as the twins were preparing to take another load to Maron, they heard an unfamiliar horn blaring in the distance.

"Oh, no!" they cried. "It's the new diesel!"

And it was.

Derek sidled up alongside them. "Hello, there. I'm Derek. Pleased to meet you."

The twins were caught off guard, this diesel seemed just as nice as BoCo. "Er... Nice to meet you too?" they vacillated.

"Are you almost done with this order?" Derek asked, looking over at the trucks. "Tell you what, why don't I help shunt the trucks into place and then I can be your banker buddy? What fun!"

Bill and Ben weren't too sure what to think of Derek until they saw him get to work. He shunted empty and loaded trucks all about the clay pits and onto the delivery train once they were ready. They were thankful for the help and were in high spirits once they were ready to leave for Maron. Bill and Ben joined each other as the piloting engines while Derek stayed at the back of the train as their banker. With a blowing of whistles and a toot of a horn, the cavalcade was off. Everything went smoothly as they went up Edward's Branchline, but once they passed Wellsworth and came to Gordon's Hill, Bill and Ben found the train becoming heavier and heavier.

"Come on! Come on!" Ben shouted. "Push harder, Derek!"

But poor Derek couldn't push any harder. Then, it happened.

"I'm overheating again!" he cried as he and the train came to a stop, black fumes of smoke pouring out from his exhausts just like before. "Uh-oh..."

"Oh, pah!" snorted Bill. "I don't believe this!"

"Now, now," said his driver. "We're almost at the top of the hill. Why don't we give it all we've got up to the top and coast all the way down to Maron?"

"We'll use our sandboxes, won't we?" Ben asked.

"Of course, the sand will help us with better grip on the rails. Can you do it, twins?"

"We'll try our best!" the twins whistled as the crews got back into their cabs and put some sand down on the rails.

The twins pulled with all of their might, their wheels gripping the rails easily thanks to the sand. Derek would have helped, but he couldn't do anything with an overheated engine. Soon they reached the hill and triumphantly rolled down the other side. They pulled into Maron station just in time. Soon, after their trucks had been shunted into place, they left Derek on a siding, so he could be picked up by Edward and taken to the Dieselworks.

Derek felt very embarrassed. "I'm very sorry, Bill and Ben," he lamented. "I'm just not good on hills and there's always something going wrong with my engine. It happens all the time." He sighed heavily. "I'll never be a proper working engine."

Bill felt sorry for Derek. "Don't say that, Derek. With the right repairs, you'd be a fine engine indeed."

"Yeah!" agreed Ben. "Then you can come and help us out at the clay pits again. You could be our banker buddy again too!"

Derek felt flattered, but he was still a little unsure about his staying on the railway. "Thank you. Thank you both," he replied softly as the twins then made their way back to Edward's Branchline.

That night, Bill, Ben, Edward and BoCo were all gathered at the sheds at Brendam. The twins felt terrible for their actions for the past days. They were also a little worried about Derek. They liked this new diesel, he reminded them of BoCo very much and hoped he would be back to work as soon as possible.

"Uh... BoCo?" Bill whispered to Metrovick diesel.

"Yes, Bill?" BoCo replied.

"We're sorry about what happened yesterday," Bill told him. "We were just annoyed about the heat, that's all."

"Yeah!" agreed Ben. "It was wrong of us to be so silly, and Derek was actually really nice. I hope he helps out more."

BoCo chuckled. "That's okay, you two. And don't you worry about Derek, I'm sure the boys at the Dieselworks will have him raring to go once they've completely repaired him. Anyway, I like having you twins the way you are. Otherwise, I'd think something would be wrong."

"Certainly, wouldn't be toothache or teething troubles though!" Edward put in as the four friends chuckled and then went happily to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 18

 **Banker Buddy Derek**

Derek the Class 17 diesel was sitting glumly in a siding at the Dieselworks. The workmen of had repaired him and then some. They had replaced some old and worn out parts of his engine with new parts which would help him run without trouble, plus some new modifications. Despite all the work done to him by the men, Derek was still doubtful. And he felt even worse as a blue car pulled into the entrance of the Dieselworks as The Fat Controller stepped out to greet him.

"Hello there," he said. "You must be Derek, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, sir," Derek stuttered. "I am. Who... Who are you?"

"I am Sir Charles Topham Hatt," The Fat Controller introduced himself grandly. "I run the North-Western Railway."

"You're the Fat Controller?!" Derek spluttered, now realising just who was in front of him. "Oh, dear. Oh, my! I'm terribly sorry, sir."

The Fat Controller just chuckled. "Not to worry, Derek. You're new here, so I understand. I also understand that you had two accidents on Gordon's Hill, correct?"

Derek looked down at his buffers, ashamed. "Yes, sir. I did, sir. Am I to be sent back to the Mainland, sir?"

"To the Other Railway?" asked The Fat Controller. "Heavens, no! I want to put you on trial, Derek. To see if you will be able to work on my railway."

Derek was gobsmacked. "A trial? To work on your railway, sir? But why?"

"Well, despite your mishaps on Gordon's Hill, I've received nothing but glowing praise from BoCo, Bill and Ben. Besides, it's not your fault that your engine always overheats, but you're always willing to work and give everything a shot. It is that kind of attitude that I want on my railway. Now then, do you wish to take the trial, Derek?"

Derek was delighted. "Oh, yes, sir! Please, sir!" Derek exclaimed, but stopped when he remembered something. "Wait, what about my engine, sir? My cooling system? Won't it overheat again?"

"I don't think so," The Fat Controller smiled. "I've made sure that you've been given a complete overhaul. So, you shouldn't have any more, uh... teething troubles."

Derek seemed unsure. "Are you sure, sir? I mean, I always have teething troubles at some point. It's bound to happen, I just know it."

"Now, now, calm down. The fault with your engine lay with shoddy repairs and the lack of interest in new parts for your engine to be added. Actually, it reminds me a lot of BoCo's situation when he first came here. Honestly, what British Rail is doing to its engines nowadays, I'll never understand."

Derek, for once in his life, smiled. Truly smiled. He was actually looking forward to the prospect of working like a proper diesel engine like so many others like BoCo and those who had come before.

"Sir, I'll gladly take this trial for you. What would you have me do?"

The Fat Controller grinned. "There's a good engine. Now, I need you to be the banker engine at Wellsworth. I want you to help my engines up and over Gordon's Hill. You'll usually be helping with slow trains or any kind of express trains that stop at Wellsworth heading east. You'll be taking over from Edward who will then attend to work on his own branchline. If you do well, I may have some other work in store for you too."

Derek couldn't wait for the prospect of more work. "Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir! I'll go right away!"

"Right then, off you go!"

With that, Derek tooted his horn and made his way out of the Dieselworks onto the Mainline. Derek thoroughly enjoyed his trip through the Sudrian countryside as he trundled along the Mainline. He found the scenery very beautiful and he had hoped to admire it for many years to come, should his trial go well. It was when he passed Maron did Derek start to feel a little anxious.

 _Oh, no. I have to get up that hill again!_ He thought fearfully. _I really don't want to fail again._ He soon reached the foot of the hill. _Well, here goes nothing._ Derek was bracing himself for the worst, but before he knew it, he reached the top of the hill. "Huh? Oh, I say! I really have been fixed! I feel as though I could do anything!"

In no time at all, Derek arrived at Wellsworth, pulling up at the station platform as Edward was sitting in the banker's siding on the other side of the station.

Edward whistled hello. "Hello there, Derek. Remember me? I'm Edward."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Edward," Derek replied, happy to meet another nice engine. "The Fat Controller told me to take over your banking duties for the day."

"Excellent!" Edward beamed. "Now I can get to Brendam for my next passenger train. Would like me to tell you what to do, Derek?"

"Oh, yes, if you wouldn't mind, of course."

Edward chuckled. "It'll be no problem at all. Now then, most of the time, you'll be waiting here in this siding where I currently am. If an engine needs help, they'll stop here at the station and blow their whistle, saying that they need a push up the hill. And when you're banking a train up a hill, just remember to pace yourself and not exert yourself too hard. I remember this one time when I pushed too hard and broke one of my crankpins and I'm telling you, it was not pretty."

"I think I understand to what to do," Derek acknowledged. "Want me to put this brakevan away?"

"Oh, actually, if you could just leave it in that siding over there, I can take it with me to Brendam."

"Sure thing."

Soon, Edward and Derek had swapped places. Derek in the banker siding and Edward with the brakevan. The two new friends bid farewell as Edward headed down his branchline towards Brendam. After that, Derek waited patiently in his siding while his driver decided to read the newspaper. They didn't have to wait long when they heard a whistle off in the distance. Emily bustled in with her local passenger train as she pulled up alongside Derek.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Emily, you must be this Derek I've heard so much about. I hope Bill and Ben didn't give you too much trouble."

Derek chortled. "Oh, they weren't the ones who were causing trouble that day. If anything, I was. I must say, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Emily."

"Likewise, Derek," Emily giggled. "And please, call me Emily. There's no need for such formalities."

"Whatever you say. So, would you like a push up Gordon's Hill?"

"I'd really appreciate that. My coaches are a lot heavier than usual thanks to all these passengers. Thanks in advance."

"Oh, don't thank me yet," Derek chortled as he went to back up behind Emily's train. "At least not until you get up the hill, of course."

"Right you are then!" Emily laughed as Derek was soon buffered up behind her train. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

And with a toot of a horn and a hoot of a whistle, the two engines set off towards Gordon's Hill. The run towards Gordon's Hill was fine as they picked up enough speed, but once they reached the hill, Derek could feel quite the weight on his buffers as he pushed his hardest to help Emily and her passengers over the hill. For a moment, he was worried about his engine, all until he heard Emily call out to him.

"Thanks, banker buddy!" she called, whistling as she crested the hill and rolled down the other side with her train in tow.

Derek reached the top shortly after her. He was surprised and yet very proud of his accomplishment too. "I... I don't believe it. Nothing went wrong this time around on the hill either. They really did fix me, for good!"

"Aye," said his driver. "Those lads at the Dieselworks know their stuff, they do. Come on. Let's get back to Wellsworth, shall we?"

"Oh, right you are, driver!" Derek then rolled down the hill. As he did, he thought about whatever it was Emily had called him when she went down the other side. "Banker buddy, eh? I must say, I do like the sound that."

"What's that, lad?" asked his driver.

"Oh, er... nothing, driver. Let's just carry on, shall we?"

"Right you are then."

In no time at all, Derek was back in his banker siding and was having a rest. While Derek knew that he wasn't a lazy kind of engine, he did like the fact that he could have rests in between his jobs as a banker. There was never really a set time for him to bank trains up the hill, so his breaks could be short or long. Then again, the station master also got him to shunt some trucks around whenever he needed, so he wasn't doing jack-all most of the time. Just then, Edward pulled in to the station with his passenger train heading to Tidmouth.

"Hello, Derek," said Edward. "How are you enjoying banking duties?"

"I think it's swell!" Derek bubbled. "I helped Emily up the hill not long ago. And once I was done, she called me 'banker buddy'."

"Banker buddy?" Edward couldn't help but laugh. "Well, well, Derek. I think that title suits you."

"You think so?"

"Yes. It's clear to me that you like banking duties and one of the engines happens to agree. In any case, with you on banker duty, I can focus more on my branchline work. And that takes a load off my mind too."

Derek smiled. "I'm just happy to help. Tell me, Edward, how are BoCo, Bill and Ben doing today?"

"Oh, they're fine. Actually, BoCo just happened to..." Edward trailed off as he saw two familiar engines approach Wellsworth from the west. "Oh, bother. That's all we need."

Derek was curious. "What? What's going on?"

"Donald and Douglas," Edward answered. "They're Caledonian Twins who came from Scotland in the 1950's during the Modernisation Plan. They're quite hostile to any new diesels they meet. Just ask BoCo about the first time he met them at Barrow."

Derek gulped nervously. "H-How bad was it?"

"Pretty bad, from what Great Northern told me anyway." The twins were closing in quickly as they were coming to a stop at the station signal. "Derek, don't say a word. Leave this to me."

Donald and Douglas then pulled up alongside Derek at the station platform with an express freight train. Derek felt his wheels wobble as the twins sidled up alongside and almost jumped when Donald, who was piloting the train, looked to him.

"And who might you be?" he asked.

"Ah-Ah-Ah!" Edward cut in. "Donald, Douglas, before either of you say anything. This is Derek. He is on trial here and is helping out as banker for the day here at Wellsworth. And I won't have you berating him like you did BoCo and Bear the first time you met them."

"You mean, you're _that_ Derek?" gasped Douglas. "The one who broke down twice?"

Derek blushed sheepishly. "Yes, I am..."

"Aw, dinnae fash yerself, mate," Donald chirped, much to Edward and Derek's surprise. "All engines break down, it's bound to happen at some point."

Edward was truly taken a for a loop as he eyed the twins suspiciously. "What's going on here? I think you two would be chewing Derek out by now for being a diesel."

Douglas looked hurt. "You think just because we did that with BoCo and Bear before means that we'd do it to yon Derek here?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," Edward said bluntly.

"Well... Ye see, Edward, engines can change, ye know! We dinnae do anythin' to diesels unless they provoke us!"

"Och, aye!" agreed Donald. "We certainly learnt our lesson thanks to Great Northern and the plumes of steam of his."

Derek looked over to Edward. "What are they talking about?"

"A friend of ours, Great Northern, came to BoCo's defence when he was being berated by Donald and Douglas."

"Hey! We said we were sorry, didnae we?" Douglas jeered.

"Aye!" agreed Donald. "And we've ne'er said a bad thing about yon BoCo since!"

"That might be true," Edward relented. "However, you didn't do that until Great Northern blew steam right in your faces."

Donald and Douglas groaned in unison at the new engine learning what had happened to them a five years ago.

Douglas looked to Derek. "So, Derek, enjoying your job as banker?"

"Yes, I am," Derek replied. "I feel like a really useful engine, especially since my engine troubles are fixed. Although, I doubt I can ever be the kind of banker engine that Edward is."

"Och, no need to sell yourself short, lad," Douglas encouraged. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Besides, I'm sure you're a far better banker than I ever was."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Two words, Derek," Donald interrupted. "Shattered brakevan."

"Oh... I see..." Derek murmured. "Well, anyway, do you two want a push up the hill?"

"If ye wouldnae mind? We'd love the extra help."

"Right then, just give a moment."

Derek quickly ran around and switched points to buffer up behind the freight train and started with the Caledonian Twins as soon as Bear had gone by with the Limited. Once again, Derek helped the train up the hill as Donald and Douglas whistled a grateful thankful to him once they crested the top. Edward, surprised by Donald and Douglas, left for his next stop.

"Well, that went much better than I thought it would," he said, puffing away confident that Derek could do his work without trouble.

After helping Donald and Douglas up the hill, Derek returned to his siding at Wellsworth once again. He enjoyed a short break until he met Bill and Ben and helped shunt their trucks of clay into the station sidings. Thankfully, and oddly enough, neither of the twins played any tricks on Derek. Much to the latter's relief. Once Bill and Ben had left, Derek heard another unfamiliar whistle as a large green Pacific engine pulled into the Wellsworth with a stopping passenger train for the Mainline. Derek read the engine's nameplate and was very surprised.

"You... You're him!" Derek exclaimed. "Edward told me about you!"

Great Northern was caught off guard. Who was this diesel and why was he saying that Edward spoke of him? "Uh... I'm Great Northern. Is that what Edward tell you that?"

"Why, yes! He told me that you came to BoCo's defence by blowing steam at Donald and Douglas some years ago. I was scared they were going to attack me for being a diesel too. But they said they've learnt their lesson."

Great Northern chuckled. "Indeed, they have. I haven't been one for discrimination and bullying ever. Creates division and conflict, you see. What's that saying from that American President? A house divided cannot stand? Ah, yes. That's it. Oh, do pardon me, but you're that new diesel who broke down twice the last couple of days, right? Derek, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am," Derek said simply. "However, the men at the Dieselworks have completely fixed me and I've been banking trains all day without fuss. Do you need help up the hill, Great Northern?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. Better to be safe than sorry, that's what I always say."

"Alright then, I'll just switch tracks and help you up." As Derek switched tracks, he asked Great Northern another question. "I say, Great Northern?"

"Yes, Derek?"

"Aside from Edward, did you know any other good banker engines during your time on the Mainland?"

Great Northern paused for moment, collecting his thoughts. "There was a U1 Beyer-Garratt who banked coal trains over Worsborough Bank. He was a nice chap and was more than happy to help. However, there was the time I was lent to the LMS to help with some passenger trains around Worcestershire and Birmingham. On the route, I ran into the infamous Lickey Incline."

Derek had heard of that name before. "Isn't that the steepest incline in all of Britain?"

"Indeed it was. And it was there that I met Lickey's banker, a decapod engine named Big Bertha or Big Emma by the railwaymen or enthusiasts. But most of us called her Emma, as she referred herself to anyway. You wouldn't believe just how big and strong she was, Derek. If there was any a definition of a gentle giant, it would be her."

Derek was awestruck. "Now I wish I met Big Emma. Was she ever preserved?"

Great Northern sighed heavily. "I'm afraid not. I heard that she had been withdrawn in 1956 and then scrapped in 1957. A 9F took over her duties and inherited her electric headlight. I also heard that a Midland 2441 Class, LMS Jinties and GWR 94xxs were often used in pairs together during other banking turns aside from the 9F. It's a terrible shame, I never got to see that old girl ever again. I can only hope she found peace in the end."

"We can only hope," Derek agreed solemnly, also wishing that he had met Big Emma, at least once. Then he noticed something. "Umm, why haven't we started yet?"

Great Northern looked up ahead of him. "Our signal's still red, Derek. We can't go yet."

"But aren't you on a schedule? You'll be late if we wait any longer."

"Actually, we're still on time. We have to wait here until Gordon goes by with the Wild Nor' Wester."

"Gordon? You mean the engine who this hill was named after?"

"The very one," Great Northern snickered. "My own big brother." Just then, there was a whistle the distance. "Ah, that'll be him now."

"Make way! Make way! Express coming through!" Gordon called as he thundered past Great Northern and Derek.

"Oh, my..." murmured Derek. "Is he trying to set a record or something?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Great Northern chuckled. "He said that he did run 100mph on his first day on Sodor. But it was unofficial at the time. Still, I don't see reason a doubt him." The two engines then saw the signal change to green. "Ah, there we go. Now we have clearance to leave. Shall we, Derek?"

"Yes, we shall, Great Northern," Derek agreed as the two engines set off towards Gordon's Hill. But just as they came to the foot of the hill, Great Northern began to laugh hysterically. "Great Northern? What's goin on?"

"Oh, my Gresley!" Great Northern hollered. "You wouldn't believe it, Derek, but Gordon's stalled on his hill. AGAIN! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Gordon saw his brother come up next to him and heard him laughing at his expense. "It's not my fault, Great Northern! Some silly schoolboy pulled the emergency brake and now I'm stuck on this blasted hill!"

"Again!" Great Northern hooted, almost wheezing from his heavy laughter. "Never mind, Gordon. At least you've got Derek here to help you." He then called back to Derek. "Hey, Derek! You're a very lucky engine! You get to bank the hill's namesake!"

Derek was thrilled. "I do? Oh, how marvellous! Now I really will be as good as banker as Edward!"

Gordon frowned glaringly at his brother. "Sometimes, I really hate you."

Great Northern only grinned. "Aw, and I love you too, Gordon. Sorry, can't stop. Got a train to pull. Keep to time and all that jazz. I'll see you later!"

Derek then crested the top of the hill as Great Northern rolled down the hill with his train. "Goodbye, Great Northern!"

"Goodbye, Derek!" Great Northern called back. "And thanks for your help, banker buddy!"

"You're welcome!" Derek shouted, relishing happily in the fact that he had been called banker buddy again. "I really may just stay on this railway after all."

"Uh, hello?!" Gordon called, taking Derek away from his musings. "I don't suppose you could help me with my express, Mr. _Banker Buddy_?"

"Oh, right! The express. I'll be there right away!"

"Well, hurry up! Or I'm going to be even later still!"

Derek soon buffered up the brake-coach and tooted his horn. "I'm ready!"

"It's about time!" Gordon grumbled as he began to pull the train while Derek began to push it up the hill.

Derek could feel the immense weight on his buffers. "I say! This train is very heavy!"

"Of course it's heavy! It's an express train, you fool!" Gordon grunted as he struggled towards the trucks. "Only the biggest and most important engines can pull express trains, like myself. I bet I wouldn't see a diesel like you pull a normal passenger train."

Derek was hurt. "I was only making an observation and..."

But Derek didn't have time to say anything else as Gordon reached the top and rolled down the other side, gathering speed quickly.

"Haha! Now that's more like it! Time to make up for lost time! Make way! Express coming through!"

Once Gordon's last coach went over the hill's crest, Derek watched as the big blue engine continued on his way down the Mainline, frustrated that he didn't get a thank you.

"Never mind him," said his driver. "You did your job and that's all that matters. Besides, Gordon's probably going to be late while we'll be sitting pretty with our own work today."

Derek took comfort in that as he and his driver made their way back to Wellsworth once more. For the rest of the day, Derek helped with any other train that needed banking up Gordon's Hill. He quickly made friends which each of the engines that he met and even befriended James too. Later that afternoon, Edward pulled into Wellsworth with a certain person in his cab. The Fat Controller stepped out onto the platforms to speak to Derek.

"Ah, Derek," he said. "I've heard nothing but glowing reports about you and your work today. Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Derek replied. "I've had a swell time."

"I'm glad to hear it. Since you've been doing such a good job with your work today, I would like for you to take Edward's late night express train down to Brendam tonight. Would you like that?"

Derek was curious. "You mean, pulling a passenger train, sir?"

"I do indeed. So, do you want to take the train?"

 _It'll certainly show Gordon a thing or two about me pulling passengers._ "Yes, sir. I'd absolutely love to take that train tonight. Which station should I got to, so I can get ready?"

"Head to Knapford Station at Platform 4 and be ready by 5:45pm sharp. Jinty should have your coaches ready at the station along with Gordon's."

With that, The Fat Controller turned on his heel and walked away. Derek looked to Edward.

"Edward, do you think you could tell me any funny coincidences that happened to Gordon. He said that a diesel like me could never pull passenger trains."

Edward could only grin. "Well, there was a certainly incident that happened with Gordon not long ago. You see, he and his crew started off early one night because of a..."

Derek listened, and he enjoyed the story Edward told him very much.

That night, Gordon was ready with his express at Platform 3. Jinty was there was too, he was waiting to leave after shunting both trains into place. The only one not there was Edward as his coaches were waiting impatiently for him at Platform 4.

"Where is Edward?" Gordon grumbled, looking around the station for his fellow blue engine. "He should have been here by now."

"I hope you don't leave early without me, Gordon." Gordon and Jinty looked ahead to see Derek backing down on the branchline coaches that were usually for Edward. Gordon was especially surprised. "Jinty," Derek continued. "Are there any ladies with floppy green hats on the platforms?"

"Ladies with floppy green hats?" Jinty repeated, bemused until he grinned, realising what Derek was insinuating. "Oh, yes! Not to worry, Derek. There aren't any ladies with floppy green hats tonight. Gordon, you and your crew shouldn't have any trouble leaving tonight."

Gordon was flabbergasted as he looked to Derek. "How... How did you know about that? Who told you about that?!"

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out, Gordon," Derek snickered as the big blue engine just grumbled, wishing Edward was there instead of Derek.

That night, Derek's fast train down Edward's Branchline towards Brendam went without a hitch. The passengers were grateful and told him what an enterprising engine he was. Derek had never felt so proud. That night, joined Edward and BoCo at the sheds and told them everything that had happened at Knapford.

"Well," chuckled BoCo. "That might've taught him a thing or two, eh?"

"Seems as though diesels like Derek can pull passengers," snickered Edward. "Did you have fun for your first day, Derek?"

Derek beamed "Oh, I most certainly did! Honestly, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

"I, for one, am very glad to hear that."

The engines all looked over to the see The Fat Controller making his way over to them.

"Derek, I have heard nothing but praise from the passengers tonight about your express run with Edward's train. And I must say, I am so glad that I made an investment in you. You have been helpful with all my engines and it seems that you have made quite the impression on all of them too."

Derek blushed. "Oh, I was nothing, sir."

"Even so, Derek, you have officially passed your trial run here for the North-Western Railway. Would you like to work here on Edward's Branchline with Edward and BoCo? You'll also have chances to run on the Mainline too."

Derek was so overjoyed that he didn't know what to say. "Oh, sir! Thank you, sir! I'll be the best diesel on this whole island, sir! I promise!"

The Fat Controller was just about to make a reply when the tooting of horns and blowing of whistles were heard from Edward and BoCo, cheering for their new friend Derek. Derek couldn't remember the last time he had felt so happy. Nowadays, Derek happily works as part the crew of Edward's Branchline.

Often, you will see him help bank engines up Gordon's Hill or take china clay from the clay pits to places all across Sodor and the Mainland. And sometimes, Derek even pulls Mainline trains and takes passenger trains as well. And whenever someone meets with Derek, he will say that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. And the engines of Sodor wouldn't want their Banker Buddy Derek to be anywhere else either.


	19. Chapter 19

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 19

 **Emily's Discovery**

Emily the Stirling Engine is one of the oldest engines on The North-Western Railway. It is thanks to her experience that she is one of The Fat Controller's most reliable and most trusted engines. While she may not be the fastest or strongest like Gordon and Henry, she is a valued member of the fleet and is a credit to the railway. Often, you will see her pulling both passengers and freight all across the Mainline.

Once she worked as an express passenger engine on the Great Northern Railway and even pulled _The Flying Scotsman_ express train between London and Edinburgh. Now however, those days were gone, and Emily is now more than happy with her current work of life as a mixed-traffic engine for The Fat Controller. One day, Emily was at Killdane with a local passenger train, she was waiting patiently for her passengers to board her train when James pulled in with a mixed-goods train.

"It's just not fair!" James grumbled. "Trucks. Trucks. Trucks! I feel as though I'm always taking trucks!"

Emily sighed heavily as she rolled her eyes. She knew she shouldn't ask, but she reckoned that it would be better to hear James out now than later.

"Alright, James, what's going on?"

"It's these trucks, Emily!" James groaned. "I can't believe I'm being stuck with mostly trucks all day! And I only pulled one passenger train this morning, which is outrageous! Not only that, but my paintwork is going to get all grubby thanks to these noisy things."

"Rusty red scrap iron! Rusty red scrap iron!" giggled the trucks.

"Shut up!" James snapped as he biffed the trucks hard.

"James," Emily said sternly. "I feel as though we have this same conversation once every week. We're all lucky to be on a railway where engines of all traction are valued and are kept in running order. If we didn't have work, then we would all be scrap for sure. Think about that. If you weren't sent over to Sodor by the LMS, then you might've been withdrawn and scrapped by British Railways."

"Keyword, Emily, might've," James grinned smugly.

"And just what to do you mean by that?"

"Well, for one thing, one of my brothers was preserved. And I was an experimental 2-6-0 mogul locomotive for the L&YR. Now, who wouldn't want to preserve me?"

"You mean, without your red coat of paint?"

"What?"

"I seem to a remember a certain tender engine who came to Sodor in black paint and red stripes. Surely, someone would have rather preserved a splendid red engine, rather than common and dirty black engine with red stripes."

James went as red as his boiler. "W-Well... I... Jokes on you, because... I came to Sodor anyway and I'm safe! So there!"

"Maybe so," Emily chuckled as she pulled out of the station. "But you're the one pulling mostly trucks now. Ta-ta, James!"

"W-What? H-Hey! Emily! Come back! Ugh, never mind..." With that, James was given clearance to leave and headed down the Mainline once more.

Later that afternoon, Gordon was scheduled to take the non-stop Wild Nor' Wester service from Barrow to Knapford. Like many times before, the big blue engine thundered down the line at speed, his crew keeping a close eye on the speed limit and the speed of their engine. As they sped along the line, they noticed that they were losing steam.

The driver turned to the fireman. "Jim, are you putting in enough coal? We're losing steam."

The fireman was taken aback. "What? How could be losing steam? I'm shovelling as much coal I should be. You know, little and often, and all that jazz."

"Well, I've got the regulator wide open and we're losing steam somehow!"

Just then, there was a loud crack which shook Gordon and his crew.

"Ouch!" Gordon cried. "Stop! Stop! I've broken one of my cylinders!"

"Ahh..." said the fireman. "That'll be it."

"Yep, that's why we weren't getting any steam," agreed the driver.

Gordon was furious as he was still in pain. "I'm sorry but could someone stop me?! This really hurts!"

Finally, Gordon came to a stop as his crew assessed the damage. He had cracked his left cylinder almost to pieces and would need full repairs. BoCo arrived and took Gordon off the express as he then continued on with the train towards Knapford. Den soon arrived and marshalled Gordon into the Steamworks. News soon spread across the railway and the engines were all worried about Gordon later that night at Tidmouth Sheds.

"A cracked cylinder apparently," Henry told the others. "Those are one of the worst."

"Not as bad a broken crankpin," Edward replied. "Now that one time with me, that really hurt, and it broke my splashers too."

"Well, at least none of us broke through a set of buffers like Thomas did that one time," Jinty snickered. "How long will Gordon be at the works?"

"I talked to Den and Dart today and they said that Gordon would be there for at least a month, maybe two," Bear answered. "My only worry is who is going to take care of the express for Gordon? Not to mention the fact that our timetables are going to suffer because of it."

"I'm sure I'll be the main candidate," James boasted smugly. "I've pulled the express before and what could be better than a splendid red engine at the head of the railway's premier express?"

"An engine that isn't smug?" Emily quipped as the other engines all laughed.

"Smug?!" James spluttered. "Smug, indeed! You're all just jealous!"

"Oh, come off it, James," Emily scoffed. "If anything, Great Northern will probably take over for Gordon."

"Ugh! How come he gets to take express trains then?" James groaned. "Let someone else do it for a change."

Great Northern decided to say his peace. "Well, I for one wouldn't mind if I did take the Wild Nor' Wester or not. But who knows, maybe you'll take the Wild Nor' Wester, Emily? Just like the old times, remember? When you took The Flying Scotsman back on the GNR."

"Oh, Great Northern," Emily giggled. "I'm flattered. But I'm afraid those days are long gone. There's no way I could pull such a heavy express train like the Wild Nor' Wester."

"That's because you're too old, Emily!" James laughed.

"James!" Henry admonished. "There is no need for such rudeness!"

"Yes, quite in poor taste," agreed Bear.

"James, you should apologise to Emily," Edward told the red engine sternly.

"Oh, pah!" James snorted. "Like that is ever going to happen!"

"Hmph!" Emily harrumphed. "So much for the _splendid_ red engine then!"

"Alright, that's enough!" The engines all heard a familiar voice echo throughout the sheds. The Fat Controller had arrived and strode up in front of the Mainline engines. "Now then engines, as I'm sure you all know, Gordon has been sent to the works after cracking one of his cylinders this afternoon. So, I have made a decision as to who will take the Wild Nor' Wester in the meantime." The engines waited as The Fat Controller paused impressively. "Great Northern, I have scheduled you to take the Wild Nor' Wester in Gordon's place."

Great Northern beamed. "Thank you, sir. I'll make sure to do my best."

"There's a good engine."

James however, was upset. "But sir!" he complained. "Why can't I take the express?!"

The Fat Controller turned to him. "Because, James, I may have lost one Pacific temporarily, but I still have another ready to take the express in cases like this. Pacifics are better designed for express trains while moguls like yourself thrive at mixed-traffic work, as my father told you long ago. However, since Great Northern will be handling the Wild Nor' Wester, I will need another to handle his passenger duties instead." He paused impressively once more. "Emily, I would like you to take Great Northern's passenger duties for the time being."

Emily was delighted. "Oh, thank you, sir! I won't let you down."

"What?!" James exclaimed. "But sir! That's not fair! Why Emily and not me?"

"For one thing, James," The Fat Controller said sternly. "Emily has more experience than you do, and she certainly doesn't go bumping coaches. Need I remind you about broken brake pipes, or newspapers and bootlaces?" After that, James said nothing and looked meekly down at his buffers. "Now then, Emily's work will be shared between you and Henry. For the rest of you, your work shall remain the same as usual. Good night, engines."

"Good night, sir," the engines chorused back at The Fat Controller as the latter made his way back his car.

The next morning, Emily backed down onto her train at Platform 2 of Knapford. She was expecting to run with her usual coaches but was surprised to see the green express coaches waiting at the platform for her.

"That's odd," she said, backing down onto the train. "Where are my usual coaches?"

"Jinty hasn't taken them out of the carriage shed, Emily," Great Northern told her as he stood ready with the Wild Nor' Wester at Platform 1. "You're taking my passenger trains, remember? So, that means you have to take fast trains as well as normal local trains."

Emily gulped. "F-Fast trains w-with these coaches?" She looked back at the eight long coaches behind her tender. "Oh, dear..."

"Come on, Emily," Great Northern encouraged. "You're one of Patrick Stirling's most famous engines, the Stirling Singles. You pulled _The Flying Scotsman_ just as my siblings and I once did. I know you can do this. You just need to believe in yourself."

"I suppose you're right, Great Northern," Emily sighed. "I just hope I have enough strength to pull your usual coaches though."

"Don't worry, old girl. I know there's plenty of strength left in your left."

"If you say so..."

"Already feeling the strain, Emily?" said a familiar voice as James coasted into view at Platform 5. He had overheard their conversation. "I think you'd be better off giving your train to me. After all, you're not as young as you once were. I am stronger and more modern than you are too."

"Oh, really, James?" Great Northern smirked, looking at James' head-code on his bufferbeam. "That's rich coming from the engine who happens to be taking the _empty_ coaching stock to Vicarstown."

"Shut up, Great Northern!" James growled. "It's not fault I was rostered onto this kind of work. I swear, my potential is being wasted!"

Great Northern looked to Emily. "Never mind him, my dear. James is just talking out of his tender. I know you can do this. Besides, I think that you'll have some fun."

"I sure hope so," Emily sighed, watching as Great Northern was the first to depart. Emily left soon after, making her way towards Elsbridge with her guaranteed connection with Thomas.

The first leg of the trip was easier than she expected. Emily enjoyed running down the line as she saw stations pass her by in a blur. And even though she could feel the considerable weight of the coaches straining on her tender coupling, she was beginning to enjoy herself. However, when she saw Elsbridge up ahead, she was glad to see the junction station. She pulled in on her platform and found that Thomas wasn't there yet.

"Oh, that's good," she said, breathing little harder. "Now I can catch a small breather."

She did, but not for long.

Thomas soon pulled up on his side of the station with Annie and Clarabel in tow. The little blue tank engine looked happy as ever as he came to a stop at the platform. Emily knew better than any engine how Thomas liked to keep to time and how fickle he became whenever he was kept late. One would only need to ask Henry to see just how bad Thomas could be when kept late.

"Right on time, once again!" Thomas said proudly as he looked over to the other platform. "Oh! Hello, Emily. I wasn't expecting to see you here today. I usually see Great Northern and his train."

Emily just smiled back. "Hello, Thomas. Gordon's cracked a cylinder so Great Northern's taking over the express. In the meantime, The Fat Controller has given me Great Northern's jobs to do until Gordon comes back."

"That's good to hear. The Fat Controller made a good choice picking you to do Great Northern's jobs. There's no way he'd choose James after what happened with him last time."

Emily chuckled. "I guess you're right. Still, I hope I don't run myself ragged with these coaches. They're a lot heavier than what I'm used to."

"Not to worry, Emily. I'm sure you'll do just fine. After all, you're one of the railway's most reliable and trustworthy engines. There's nothing you can't do."

Emily felt touched. "Thank you, Thomas. That means a lot." Just then, Emily heard her guard blow his whistle. "Oh! That'll be me. See you later, Thomas!"

"Goodbye, Emily!" Thomas called, watching as Emily trundled away back towards the Mainline.

Once Emily had gotten back onto the Mainline, she had a certain question that she needed answered. "Driver? What are our stops before Vicarstown again?" she asked.

"Wellsworth, Cronk, Killdane and Kellsthorpe Road, Emily," her driver answered. "You can have a rest once we reach Vicarstown."

"I see. Thank you, driver!" Emily then realised which station was her next stop. "Wellsworth?! But we can't stop at Wellsworth! That's before Gordon's Hill!"

"We can't just not go to Wellsworth, Emily," said her fireman. "It's part of our schedule and if we do miss it, we'll be disappointing our passengers. You don't want that, do you?"

"No..." Emily sighed, really not looking forward to stopping at Wellsworth.

Wellsworth, also known as Edward's Station, is the first station of Edward's Branchline. It is also the station that lies just west of Gordon's Hill. Trains that run express without stopping at Wellsworth can usually get over the hill without trouble. However, it becomes a whole different matter when a train comes to stop at the station.

The distance between Wellsworth and the hill isn't long enough to gather up speed after starting, so most engines can't get over the hill alone. This was what Emily was scared of and was even more worried thanks to how heavy her coaches were. Emily sidled into Wellsworth disheartened right next to Derek the Class 17 diesel who was idling in the station's banker siding.

"Hello, Derek..." Emily said sadly once she had come to a top.

"Hello, Emily. Oh my, you do look glum," Derek observed. "What's the matter?"

"These coaches are just so heavy, and I'm not used to them. I'm not going to have a chance getting up Gordon's Hill all by myself. I really wish my fast train wasn't stopping here."

Derek was bemused. "Umm, don't you remember why I'm here?"

Emily looked at Derek and didn't seem to get the idea. "Uh... no. Why?"

"Oh, come on, Emily. You know! Remember the first time you met me? I'm your banker buddy! Banker Buddy Derek!"

"Banker Buddy?" Emily repeated, mulling over the words. "Banker buddy...? Wait! Banker Buddy! Derek, you going to help bank me over the hill with my train! I can't believe I forgot!"

"That's why I'm in this siding, silly!" Derek laughed as he started up and went to cross over the tracks while tooting his horn at the signalman. "Just give me a moment."

"That's alright. Thank you, Derek!"

"Not a problem, but I think you should thank me only when I've got you over the hill."

"Oh, right..." Emily chortled, a little embarrassed. Soon, and much to Emily's delight, the train, thanks to some help by Derek, had made it to the crest of Gordon's Hill. Emily rolled over the hill and whistled thank you to Derek. "Thanks, Banker Buddy!"

"Your welcome!" Derek called as Emily coasted down the hill towards her next stop.

For the remained of the first trip, Emily had a quite a good run. But by the time she reached Vicarstown. She was thankful for the rest her driver had promised. She took full advantage of filling up her tender with water and coal before having a short rest before her next train which was a local passenger train with the red bogie coaches. Emily had to admit, she was starting to miss her old coaches and wondered just how much longer she could keep this up.

For the rest of the day, Emily pulled more fast and slow passenger trains with the heavy green and red bogies coaches. When she arrived at Barrow that evening with her last train of the day, Emily was thoroughly bushed and couldn't wait for a well-deserved nap before heading back Tidmouth. Unfortunately, she barely got an hour's worth of sleep when the station master came over to her and her crew.

"Sorry to bother you all, but I'm afraid that Emily needs to take the Post Train to Tidmouth Harbour."

"The Post Train?" Emily yawned, quickly becoming fed up. "Don't Henry and Bear usually take the Post Train to Tidmouth Harbour for Thomas, Percy and Oliver?"

"Yes, Henry and Bear usually do," the station master nodded. "However, Great Northern takes the Post Train at least once a week. And that once happens to be tonight and since you have taken over Great Northern's work, that means you'll need to do it."

Emily couldn't help but groan. "Must I, sir? I'm so tired!"

"Do you not want the people of Sodor to get their mail? Do you want to let them down?"

Emily sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, sir..."

"Good. Now then, driver, fireman, if you could Emily steamed up, the diesel with the Post Train from British Rail should be here soon."

So, much to Emily's chagrin, she was steamed up and waited for the Mainland diesel to arrive at the station with the Post Train. When he did arrive, Emily saw the Post Train had 9 post vans in tow. Three for Thomas, Percy and Oliver each. Emily groaned as she backed down onto the Post Train had hoped that she had enough strength to just leave the station.

Thankfully, she did after her crew had made her leave slowly before picking up speed outside of the station. They were making good time as they passed by Crovan's Gate as Emily saw the Skarloey engines packing in for the night. She envied them, also wishing that she could be in a nice warm shed.

Further down the track near Kellsthorpe Road, a signalman had foolishly fallen asleep at his post. And it was during his sleep that he accidently knocked the points on the Mainline track down to an old branchline. When Emily and the Post Train approached the points, they were diverted onto the old branchline instead of the Mainline.

"That's odd," Emily said. "Why are we being diverted onto a loop line?"

"Loop line?" repeated the fireman. "Why on Earth are we put to a loop line? We're the only train out here."

"Ah, bollocks!" the driver swore. "We've been sent down the wrong track!"

"What?!" Emily cried as the driver applied the brakes.

Unfortunately for Emily and her crew, the post vans were loaded with heavy parcels and pushed Emily far down the branchline, even with her brakes hard on. Emily closed her eyes and braked for all she was worth. When she next opened them, Emily found herself looking at a pair of very old buffers overgrown with vines and weeds. She then realised that she was in a station which was overgrown but had four platforms and four terminal tracks.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking all over the unfamiliar station.

"Not sure," replied the fireman. "Come on, Baz. Why don't we have a poke around?"

"Alright then, Jack," agreed the driver. "Let's see if a town is nearby."

With that, the two men left shortly afterwards while the guard came down from his brakevan to keep Emily company. Emily was thankful for this as she hoped her crew would be okay as she didn't want to spend much longer in this old and overgrown station than she had to. Soon, her crew arrived back, and they seemed rather pleased.

"Any good news, lads?" asked the guard.

"Yep, turns out we're at the old Kirk Ronan Station," answered the driver.

"Kirk Ronan?" Emily asked. "Now why does that sound so familiar?"

"Kirk Ronan is a seaside town which started off as a fishing port," her fireman told her. "The locals say there's a derelict harbour not too far from here. The same one where Skarloey and Rheneas were dropped off at when they first arrived on Sodor in 1865."

Emily's jaw fell open. "Really?! This station was the place where Skarloey and Rheneas first arrived?"

"Seems so," the driver nodded. "That's what the locals said. They always say that the line between Kellsthorpe Road and Kirk Ronan was closed down not long after the NWR was formed in 1915.

The fireman pet Emily on her buffer. "Well now, looks like you made a discovery, Emily. You found a branchline. What do you have to say about that, old girl?"

Emily could only smile. "Honestly, Jack? I have no words at all."

Soon, Emily's crew boarded their engine as the guard got back into the brakevan. Emily reversed back up the branchline carefully with the Post Train in tow. By the time they reached the signal-box on the Mainline, Emily's crew and the guard all gave the signalman a piece of their minds before returning to their engines and making their way down the Mainline once more. Eventually, Emily pulled into Tidmouth Harbour, tired but unbeaten. Thomas, Percy and Oliver were waiting for her, they didn't look pleased at all.

"And just where have you been?" asked Oliver. "Do you have any idea how late you are, Emily?"

"Yeah, what gives, Emily?" grunted Thomas.

Poor Emily barely had any breath. "I'm sorry... I'm late..." she wheezed. "I was sent down an old branchline after Kellsthorpe Road by a lazy signalman. However, I did make a discovery."

Percy was intrigued. "What kind of discovery?"

"I found the lost and derelict station of Kirk Ronan," Emily explained. "The very town where Skarloey and Rheneas were dropped off to when they first arrived on the Island."

The three tank engines were in shock and awe.

"An old branchline?!" Percy exclaimed. "How come we've never seen it before?"

"My driver said that it was left abandoned after the NWR was formed," Emily continued. "We need to talk to The Fat Controller about it. I'm sure it could be of great use again. I just know it."

"You can do that tomorrow, old girl," said her driver. "Right now, you need some sleep."

Emily yawned again. "Oh, dear... You're right, driver. I'm totally worn out."

And with that, Emily uncoupled from the Post Train and made her way back to Tidmouth Sheds for a well-earned rest. The next morning, she woke up to see The Fat Controller making her way over to her. Emily gulped, thinking that she was going to be scolded about the Post Train being late.

"Sir, I'm sorry about the Post Train being late last night," she said to The Fat Controller. "A signalman sent me and my crew down the wrong path, that's why were late."

"I know, Emily. I know," The Fat Controller chuckled.

"You do?"

"Yes. Your crew talked to me and told me everything that had happened last night. They also told me about the old Kirk Ronan Branchline you discovered too."

"They did? Oh, sir, please do re-open the branchline, sir! I just know that the townspeople of Kirk Ronan and Rolf's Castle would benefit from a connection with the railway again. I just know it. We could also make use of Kirk Ronan's harbour too! I remember hearing about a steamer company centred in Dublin as well."

"So I've heard," The Fat Controller agreed. "Emily, you have done me proud, last night and your other hard work too. I am currently making plans to have The Kirk Ronan Branchline rebuilt and I shall look into this steamer service in Dublin. Hopefully, we can come to an agreement to transport tourists from Ireland to Sodor. Now, that would be a very good idea."

Emily was delighted. "Oh, thank you, sir! I cannot wait to see what the old branchline looks like. I truly can't." Emily then paused for a moment before speaking. "Sir, if I may, could I return to my old jobs? I know you wanted me to cover Great Northern's duties, but I felt so tired yesterday and if I keep this up, I just know I'll run myself to the ground."

The Fat Controller began to snicker. "I see. Very well then, Emily. You will have your old jobs back. And I'll organise for Bear to take over Great Northern's duties in the meantime. Thank you for reminding me. However, there is one thing I would like to know, would you like to help with the restoration of the Kirk Ronan Branchline?"

Emily beamed with joy. "Yes, sir! I'd love to, sir!"

"Very good. I'll arrange for you to take down ballast trains to Kellsthorpe Road when necessary along with other important goods trains needed to rebuild that branchline. Thank you again for all of your hard work, Emily."

Emily only smiled. "Not to worry, sir."

With that, The Fat Controller, tipped his hat, bid Emily farewell and strode away back to office. Eager to get to work on this new project of his. First, he had a few phone calls to make.


	20. Chapter 20

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 20

 **Preparations**

Sir Charles Topham Hatt, the North-Western Railway's second Fat Controller, was bursting with ideas. The news of Emily's discovery of the old Kirk Ronan branchline had put him in high spirits. He was also intrigued by what Emily had told him about a steamer service in Dublin. He made a mental note to give that company a call. In the meantime, he had more pressing domestic matters to deal with. The Arlesdale Railway and Skarloey Railway.

 _There's no doubt that Fergus and Peter will want a slice of the Kirk Ronan pie,_ he thought. _Opening up another harbour would certainly be beneficial for all three of our railways as a whole. Minerals is what we'll probably export out of there. Ballast from Arlesdale and slate or ore from Skarloey._

Once the Fat Controller reached his office, he sat down at his desk and dialled a phone number. The phone rang a couple of times before someone on the other side answered.

" _Hello? This is Fergus Duncan speaking,_ " the voice of the Arlesdale Railway's Small Controller rang through the phone.

"Ah, Fergus! It's Charles, how are you?" The Fat Controller asked The Small Controller.

" _Charles? Oh, I'm quite well. Can't say the same for old Bert though. Poor old engine can barely get his steam up nowadays._ "

"That's terrible to hear. Reminds me of Henry during my youth in his old shape. Anyway, tell me, Fergus, how well is your railway running currently?"

" _Splendid, actually. Those new diesels, Frank, Sigrid, Blister 1 and Blister 2 are a credit to the line. Passengers are a plenty and there's much work to be done. We haven't had an accident ever since Rex's derailment with those bales of wool. So, yes, everything is going rather well. How about you?_ "

"Just as well on my end. However, poor Gordon broke a cylinder a couple of days of ago and I've had to swap engines around. Now then, Fergus, would you be available for a board meeting this afternoon with Peter and myself? I know it's on rather short notice, but I'm sure you'll like what I have to say."

The Small Controller said nothing for short while before speaking again. " _I think I can move my schedule around, Charles. What time will you want me there at Knapford?_ "

"Oliver should have a down service from Arlesburgh at three o'clock and will arrive here at Knapford at four. I trust you can make it?"

" _Absolutely. I'll see you then, Charles_."

"Very good. Thank you, Fergus." With that, the call was disconnected. "One down, one to go. I hope Peter is in his office."

The Fat Controller then made the call to Sir Peter Sam, the Thin Controller of the Skarloey Railway. The call was answered as The Fat Controller spoke.

"Hello? Peter? Is that you?"

" _Sir Charles? No, I'm not Sir Peter. It's Ivo. Ivo Hugh._ "

"Ivo Hugh? Oh, yes! Ivo! Now I remember. Tell me, is Sir Peter around? I have some important business I need to speak to him about."

" _Right. He's just coming back now. Sir Peter! Sir Charles is on the phone and wants to talk to you._ " The phone changed hands as Sir Peter Sam spoke next. " _Hello, this is Peter._ "

"Peter! It's Charles, how are you?"

" _I'm quite well, Charles. Yourself?_ "

"Oh, I'm fine. Quite pleased, actually."

" _You are? Why would that be?_ "

"One my engines have just rediscovered an old branchline that runs down to Kirk Ronan. I'm making plans to restore it and think The Skarloey Railway would benefit with some contracts with Ireland and the Isle of Man. There's a derelict harbour close to the old station. The one where Skarloey and Rheneas were dropped off at if memory serves."

The Thin Controller was intrigued. " _Now that you mention it, I do remember Skarloey and Rheneas telling me about such a harbour. I take it you're going to use this harbour to transport minerals like ballast, coal and such to Ireland and the Isle of Man via Kirk Ronan Harbour?_ "

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Peter. But not worry, since your railway has slate and ore to export, I'm sure we can come to an agreement. That's why I've called Fergus before and he's meeting me at four o'clock for a board meeting at Knapford. Would you be alright to come by then?"

" _Hmm... I think I should be able to manage. Shall I take the Wild Nor' Wester to Knapford?_ "

"Yes. Great Northern should be at Crovan's Gate later on today at 3:20pm with the down service from Barrow. I trust you can make it then?"

" _Of course, Charles. I look forward to the meeting. Goodbye_."

"Goodbye, Peter."

The call was ended once more. The Fat Controller stood up from his chair and looked out the window as he done many times before, watching as engines stopped or went through The Big Station. Not long ago, the North-Western Railway was under pressure to modernise the railway with diesels and even faced shutting down thanks to the 'antiquated' look of the fleet. But now, after everything that had happened since then, The Fat Controller was resolute in his belief that his father's railway would continue on. He paced around the room for the next little while, thinking hard.

 _Well... I've organised the meeting with Peter and Fergus, I have an idea of whom our contracts will be via Kirk Ronan, but now the matter is what kinds of engines should man this new branchline? Ugh, I'd give anything to have another engine suddenly appear at the works like Oliver did last time. Hold on... maybe some heritage railways will have some engines to spare for me? But who to call? Ah, why not The Great Central? Or maybe Didcot?_

For the next half hour, The Fat Controller had made multiple calls to the heritage railways on the Mainland. While their directors were glad to speak to him, they were unable to give away any of their engines for the time being. The Fat Controller sighed heavily, he need more engines to man this new branchline or his fleet would be stretched thin. Finally, he decided to make another call to an old friend of his from Sussex. The director of The Bluebell Railway.

"Hello? Bernard, is that you? How are you? I'm fine myself, thank you. Just out of curiosity Bernard, do you happen to have engines for sale? Shunters, freight engines or passenger engines? I'm planning on rebuilding another branchline, so I need all the engines I can get. You really have engines to sell? Two?! That's splendid! What types of engines are they?" The man on the phone told him. "A Q1 and a USA dock tank? Bernard, those are just the type of engines that I will need on this new branchline. You wouldn't happen to have a passenger engine spare, would you? I see... No, no, it's alright. You've more than helped me out already. If you bring them to me and meet me at Barrow when you can, I'll have the money ready for the exchange. Thank you again, Bernard. I'll see you soon."

When the Fat Controller put down the phone, he was in high spirits and felt like jumping for joy. He had acquired two engines for his new branchline and all he needed now was one more. He knew it would take some time, but he was sure he would be able to find a suitable passenger engine for the branchline's needs. For now, though, he decided to celebrate this small victory with tea and crumpets.

Later that afternoon, The Fat Controller waited outside of his office at Knapford Station watching as Great Northern arrived with the Wild Nor' Wester, along with The Thin Controller. Then, Oliver pulled in with his auto-train along with The Small Controller. The three men bid each other their greetings before joining The Fat Controller in his office.

The Fat Controller stood up behind his desk. "Peter, Fergus, thank you both for coming here on such short notice. As I've already told you, I'll be building a new branchline between Kellsthorpe Road and Kirk Ronan. Once this new branchline is ready, it'll have a harbour that will give us easy access to Ireland and the Isle of Man."

"I take it you want all the ballast you can get from my engines, Charles?" The Small Controller asked.

"Indeed, Fergus. And I shall make it worth your while too. Business has been good for the NWR over the last few years and you'll get your full payment for providing the ballast needed for the branchline. If everything goes well, you might be able to sell ballast and wool via Kirk Ronan too."

The Thin Controller fingered his chin. "And what does The Skarloey Railway have to benefit?"

"Another harbour where you can sell the slate and ore you make on your railway, Peter," said The Fat Controller. "Not only that, but you'll have more tourists coming your way too."

Now the Thin Controller was interested. "More tourists you say?"

"Yes. I've learned that there is a steamer service based in Ireland. I'm going to contact that company to see if we could sign a contract together. With this new influx of tourists, this means you'll have more passengers than ever for your railway. Not only that, but once the branchline is built, I'll have the branchline engines transport your minerals from your railway to the harbour. Then, we can share the profits from those exports."

If the Thin Controller hadn't been convinced before, he certainly was now. "Well, Charles, when you put it like that, there's no way I can refuse. Shall I make some arrangements for materials to be brought down for my railway to be used for the rebuild?"

"Indeed," The Fat Controller nodded. "That would be much appreciated. Thank you."

From there, the three controllers continued their discussion with the finer details of the rebuild. By the end, they were all satisfied and were eager to get to work. Once the Thin and Small Controller had left to head back home to Crovan's Gate and Arlesburgh, The Fat Controller began making arrangements to send out workmen to survey the land between Kellsthorpe Road and Kirk Ronan, so they could make notes on how much material was needed for the branchline rebuild. Everything was going well so far, but the only problem was the third engine that was needed on the branchline.

Fortunately, for The Fat Controller, an opportunity presented itself.

The next evening at Barrow, Great Northern had delivered the Wild Nor' Wester and left the train in the station to let a diesel from The Other Railway take the express onwards to London. Unfortunately for the diesel, it's torque convertor had failed. A torque convertor is a device in a diesel that sends power from the diesel's engine to its wheels. Much like that of a steam engine's pistons with steam to make it move. Without that, the diesel couldn't run under its own power.

The Fat Controller was at the station when he heard what had happened and made an arrangement for Great Northern to take the express onwards to London. British Rail had no other engines to spare so they agreed to let Great Northern on the Mainline and made sure that he wouldn't be in any danger once he arrived at London. When he was told about the change, Great Northern was little apprehensive.

"Are you sure about this, sir?" he asked. "I thought BR doesn't let steam engines out on the mainline of the Mainland anymore."

"Not exactly," The Fat Controller chuckled. "They've lifted some bans and I've made an arrangement so that you will take the express to London in peace. However, there is another reason why I'm sending you to London."

"What reason would that be, sir?"

"You'll be heading to Stratford Station, Great Northern. I trust you have been there before?"

Great Northern was very surprised. "Y-Yes, I have, sir. It was once the main station of The Great Eastern Railway. I've been there before a few times during my youth on the LNER. What's this ulterior motive I have at Stratford?"

The Fat Controller then made a grim expression on his face. "I know for a fact that Stratford Works has withdrawal sidings. Sidings filled with engines. I have already made two purchases from The Bluebell Railway for two engines that will become part of crew of the Kirk Ronan Branchline. Unfortunately, I have not been able to secure a third. So, I need you to find a passenger engine for that branchline. If you have any trouble, your crew will contact me and sort out any trouble you have out there."

"Understood, sir. I'll make sure that I won't fail you."

"Very good. Now then, you'd better get coaled and watered up before you go foreign."

"Yes, sir!"

With that, Great Northern puffed away to refill with coal and water. Soon, he was coupled up to the express and with a whoosh of steam, was off, puffing out proudly towards London. At first, he was a little nervous as he passed through Cumbria and then out onto the East Coast Mainline of which he knew well. However, that soon changed as he remembered all the times he had travelled up and down Britain's mainline during his time on the GNR and LNER.

Eventually, he pulled into Stratford Station, noticing that the station looked both the same and different in some ways or another. A crowd at the station had gathered around him, all of them were taking pictures of Sir Nigel Gresley's first A1 Pacific. Great Northern even heard some of the people talk of Gordon's time when he went foreign, ending up at St. Pancras.

As much as he enjoyed the attention, Great Northern and his crew had more pressing matters to attend to. Once his coaches had been taken away by the station pilot Class 08 shunter, Great Northern was able to leave the station and managed to sneak his way into the sidings close to the old Stratford Works. As he puffed quietly through the sidings, Great Northern felt a great sense of déjà vu.

 _There are so many engines here that were once part of the GER or were built by Stratford Works,_ he thought grimly. _This feels too much like Doncaster. Way too much._

His driver heard his nervous breathing. "Easy now, old boy," he soothed. "There's no need to psyche yourself out. If anything happens, The Fat Controller will see it fixed and keep us safe."

"I know, I know..." Great Northern replied, hoping he could get out of here as soon as possible.

Just then, a voice rang out far down the sidings.

"Who's there? Who are you?!"

The voice sounded feminine and familiar. Great Northern couldn't help but feel like he knew from whom this voice belonged to.

"My name is Great Northern," he called out, slowly inching closer towards the steam engine in the distance. "I've told you my name. Now tell me yours."

There was a small gasp as Great Northern's head-code lamp shone on the black engine in front of him. "N-No... I-It can't be... You can't be Great Northern. He... was rebuilt by Edward Thompson. You have to be some kind of imposter! Get out of here!"

Great Northern puffed closer before he was stopped by his crew, now noticing that he was buffer-to-buffer with the engine he was speaking to. Great Northern squinted his eyes at the engine in front of him.

"Do I... know you?" The engine in front of him was a GER D56. An original 1903 Claud Hamilton and by the looks of it, she had been fitted with a Belpaire boiler. Her black livery with red stripes was covered in rust and dust from years of negligence. Her face was aged and dusty too. Finally, it all clicked for Great Northern. "Molly? Molly, is that you?"

The Claud Hamilton didn't answer for a moment as she got a good look at Great Northern and began to tear up. "Great Northern... I-It is you! I thought... I thought you had been scrapped. Where did you go? How are you in your old Gresley shape? Who rebuilt you?"

"Just give me moment, my dear. My crew and I just need to make sure of something."

Great Northern said something to his crew as his fireman hopped down with a torch and shone a light over a number on the side of Molly's cab.

"Her number says 62541," the fireman said to Great Northern. "Is that the same number you remember her by during your BR days?"

"Yes," Great Northern replied. "During the LNER days, she was numbered 8850 and before that, 1850 during her time on the GER." He looked to Molly with a kind smile. "Isn't that right, my dear?"

"Y-Yes..." Molly blubbered, tears starting to fall down her face. "What... What are you doing here, Great Northern? Where do you live now?"

"I now live and work for The North-Western Railway on the Island of Sodor," Great Northern explained. "I was saved from scrap at Doncaster by The Fat Controller and reunited with my older brother, Gordon. I came because The Fat Controller is rebuilding a branchline on Sodor and he needs a passenger engine to help maintain it. And I know that I've found the perfect engine for the job. You."

Tears began flowing out of Molly's eyes, running down her cheeks like overflowing rivers. "You mean... you're... you're going to save me? Save me from scrap?"

"Yes. And once The Fat Controller knows that you're an old friend of mine and a Claud Hamilton, there's no way he won't pay for you."

Molly didn't know what to say. She wanted to say thank you but choked on her words as she began to blubber in gratitude and relief. However, their touching moment was interrupted by the yard foreman.

"Oi! What's going here? Who the hell are you?"

"We're from the North-Western Railway," the driver replied quickly. "And we would like to buy this Claud Hamilton."

"Oh, yeah? Says who?"

"Says Sir Charles Topham Hatt. The Fat Controller. If you don't believe, let's go and call him. I'm sure he can come to sort some of arrangement with British Rail."

"Hmm... very well then," the foreman cringed, not looking convinced but joined the driver and fireman as they made their way to the nearest building to find a telephone.

Great Northern and Molly watched as they left. Hoping for the best. Half an hour later, the driver and firemen returned, a skip in their step and they rushed over to Great Northern.

"Good news," said his driver. "British Rail has agreed to sell Molly to us and The Fat Controller has sent over his payment to the chairman, Sir Henry Johnson. We've been given clearance to turn around and take Molly home with us."

Great Northern beamed with joy. "YES! Oh, thank Gresley! Molly, did you hear? You're coming home with us! You're coming to Sodor!"

"I... I really am?" Molly murmured, a tearful smile on her face once again. "Thank you! Thank you, Great Northern! Thank you everyone! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, my dear. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I just need to get turned around and then I'll come back, and have you coupled up to me."

Great Northern and his crew did just that. They got him turned around and backed down in front of Molly as they then coupled her up. With a toot of Great Northern's whistle, he and Molly made their way out of Stratford light engine towards Sodor. As she trailed behind Great Northern, Molly was finally able to enjoy herself with the cool and crisp night air blasting against her smokebox. She couldn't remember the last time she was so happy and let out a cathartic laugh of relief and pent up emotion.

It was late in the morning by the time they arrived at the Steamworks. Great Northern then shunted Molly inside of the Steamworks just as The Fat Controller arrived and his way over to the two old friends. Great Northern was standing beside Molly on the berth road next to her, wanting to comfort his old friend before leaving.

"Well done, Great Northern!" The Fat Controller congratulated the big green engine. "To think that you actually found a Claud Hamilton, perhaps the very last of her class and brought her here to Sodor. I must say, I am very proud you. And thank you so much for your hard work."

Great Northern just smiled and winked at Molly. "It was nothing, sir. Really. There was no way I was going to leave an old friend like Molly behind."

"Indeed!" The Fat Controller then turned to Molly. "Molly, it is my honour and pleasure to welcome you to Sodor and the North-Western Railway. I hope you come to enjoy your time here once you have been overhauled and had a new coat of paint. I am also rebuilding a branchline not far from here, would you like to be the main passenger engine there? I just know it would suit an engine of your class very much. After all, you were built to be an express engine for the GER, weren't you?"

"Y-Yes, I was, sir," Molly murmured, surprised to see how kind this man with a top hat was to her. "A-And, yes. I would love to work on this new branchline of yours. I promise that once I'm ready, I'll be the hardest working engine you'll ever see."

The Fat Controller smiled. "I look forward to seeing that day. In the meantime, I want you to take all the time you need to relax and get some much need sleep. You are safe here on my railway, Molly. I can assure you of that."

Molly managed to make a small smile of her own. "Thank you... s-sir."

"You're welcome." He then turned to Great Northern. "Great Northern, while I understand you don't want to leave Molly alone, I need you to head back to Tidmouth and get some sleep. And once you've finished your jobs today, you can come back here and keep Molly company."

"I understand, sir," Great Northern acknowledged as he looked back to Molly. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Molly. I hope you don't mind."

"I'll be fine, Great Northern," Molly assured him. "Thank you for everything you've done for me today. Now you go and get some rest. Holden knows you've earned it."

With that, Great Northern smiled at his old friend before leaving the Steamworks while The Fat Controller went to talk to the manager. As they both left, another green engine suddenly appeared next to Molly where Great Northern was. He, like Molly, was a Claud Hamilton, but was the H88 type which was designed and built by Sir Nigel Gresley, not James Holden. He wore the iconic LNER apple-green livery with black and white boiler bands. His lettering and numbering was written in yellow and wore the number 8783 on his cab sides.

His name was Royal Claud, Molly's late younger cousin who had been one of the two Claud Hamilton royal engines before a nasty accident in 1939. Once, Molly and Royal Claud, or as he was also known, RC, had been close. Now though, RC was gone, but remained as a figment in the almost shattered and broken psyche of Molly.

"So..." Royal Claud said as he surveyed Molly's new surroundings. "You really have been saved. Took them long enough, didn't it?"

Molly felt a lump in her boiler before she muttered a soft, "RC... Y-You're here..."

"Yes. As are you."


	21. Chapter 21

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 21

 **No Nonsense Rosie**

It had been a long trip for two Southern Railway engines from The Bluebell Railway. They were a USA dock tank named Rosie, and a Bulleid Q1 named Neville. Almost a week ago, the two engines had been informed that they had been bought by The Fat Controller of the North-Western Railway of Sodor. They had heard about the last remaining railway in Britain to run Mainline steam services thanks to their old friend Stepney. While they were sad to leave The Bluebell Railway, they were looking forward to their new life on Sodor.

"I hope the engines there are nice," Neville said to Rosie as the two of them ran light engine through Barrow.

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Neville," Rosie assured him. "Besides, once that new branchline is built, we'll all be working together on it. Just like we did back on the Bluebell."

"I suppose you're right," Neville acquiesced. "Still, I am going to miss everyone back on the Bluebell Railway, especially Stepney and Bluebell."

"I know, Neville, me too. But look at it this way, I'm sure we're going to make lots of new friends here. These were all the engines that Stepney told us about when he came here in 1962, remember?"

"I do remember. Still, at least we've got each other to keep us company. At least until we make some new friends."

"That's the spirit!"

Soon, the two engines arrived at Vicarstown. At one of the platforms waiting to meet them was The Fat Controller himself. He looked very happy to see the new additions to his fleet and made his way over to them.

"Ah, you two must be Rosie and Neville, I take it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Rosie answered.

"Bernard Holden said that you bought us to work on a branchline you're rebuilding?" Neville asked.

"Yes, I did. Tell me, how was your trip here from The Bluebell Railway?"

"It was quite nice, sir," Rosie began. "I'm just glad that Neville and I went together while crossing through the Mainline of the Other Railway."

"Not to mention the special permission we had too," Neville added. "Actually, we saw some enthusiasts on our way here. They must've heard about us leaving the Bluebell and wanted to take some pictures."

The Fat Controller smiled. "Well then, I am glad to hear that you both had a safe and enjoyable journey. And I hope you come to enjoy working on my railway." He looked to Rosie. "Rosie, I need you to head to the China Clay Pits beyond Edward's Branchline. The clay pits lie beyond the branchline's last station of Brendam. Once you are there, I need you to help Bill and Ben organise trucks about for important loads that I've ordered concerning the Kirk Ronan's branch rebuild. Can I trust you to help?"

Rosie was more than ready to help, especially when it came to be building her new home. "Yes, sir! I'll work harder than I've ever done before!"

"There's a good engine. Now, off you go. Bill and Ben are waiting for you."

"Yes, sir!" Rosie whistled as she looked back to Neville. "See you soon, Neville! I hope you have fun with your own jobs."

"B-Bye, Rosie!" Neville stuttered, watching as his friend departed from the station.

As she left Vicarstown Station, Rosie began to worry about her friend.

 _I sure hope Neville will be alright without me,_ she pondered. _He's not used to being outside of The Southern Region and who knows what'll happen to him if someone were to make fun of him. Oh, dear... I really hope they don't call him an ugly duckling too._

For the most part, Rosie enjoyed her nice run down the NWR's Mainline. Her wheels got a stretch as she managed to obtain further information in regard to getting onto Edward's Branchline before heading towards the Clay Pits as she met Bear at Maron.

"After you cross over Gordon's Hill, you should see a signal-box next to a crossing along with two crossing tracks," said Bear. "Head down that line and you'll be making your way down Edward's Branchline without any trouble."

Rosie was grateful for the advice and was on her way once more. When she did turn down Edward's Branchline, she was treated to the beautiful scenery that greeted her. From the Vicar's Orchard, to the Fenlands, the Flour Mill and many other places before puffing her way through Brendam and onto the Drain before the China Clay Pits.

Meanwhile, Bill and Ben the tank engine twins had just finished organising a train of China Clay for BoCo who was just leaving while Derek was waiting for his train to be organised. Unfortunately, the twins had gotten into an argument with each other as to who was going to take the next train after Derek.

"I'm going to do it!" exclaimed Ben.

"That's not fair!" grumbled Bill. "You took a train to the docks last time!"

"I did not!"

"You did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"DID NOT!"

"DID TOO!"

"ENOUGH!" Derek blared his horn loudly as the twins shook in their frames. "With the way you two are going, neither of you are going to be taking any trains to Brendam. And speaking of trains, where's mine? I'm going to need to leave soon."

"Just wait a minute, won't you?" scoffed Bill. "We're going to get it ready."

"Yeah!" agreed Ben. "It's not our fault all this work is too much for just the two of us to handle. Where is that new engine come to help us? Whoever it is should be here right now."

Derek then heard a whistle to the entrance of the Clay Pits, watching as Rosie sidled in. "Ah, there she is now." He introduced himself once Rosie had come to a stop. "Welcome to the Clay Pits. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Derek. And these two rascals next to me are Bill and Ben."

"It's pleasure to meet you as well, Derek," Rosie replied gratefully. "You too Bill and Ben. I can't wait to start work and help out."

"That's the spirit!" Derek chirruped. "Now, if only two certain tank engines had that kind of mindset instead of arguing like twits, so they could get my train ready."

Bill and Ben were hurt. "HEY!"

Rosie giggled. "It's alright, Derek. If we all work together, we'll have your train ready in no time."

Derek barely managed to not roll his eyes. "With these two, my dear? I'm not quite sure."

Bill and Ben were not happy with what Derek had said and begrudgingly showed Rosie around the Clay Pits, so she could familiarise herself with the layout. Thankfully for the twins, Rosie was a hard-worker and her wheel-arrangement helped when turning tight corners. In no time at all, Derek's train was finally ready to leave as the diesel left eagerly with a toot of his horn.

Unfortunately, as the three shunters got back to work, Bill and Ben were still arguing about who would be taking the next train to Brendam. It had gotten so bad that Rosie found herself being the only engine doing the work around the Clay Pits. The manager quickly caught word of the twins not doing their work and set them straight.

"I have heard nothing but you two arguing all day about one of you taking a blasted train up to the Brendam!" he scolded. "I, and the workmen for that matter, are sick of it!"

"W-We're sorry, sir," mumbled Bill.

"Y-Yeah, sorry, sir," Ben muttered. "But haven't we been useful?"

The manager was stern.

"No. Quite the opposite in fact. Thanks to your bickering, you've basically left Rosie to do all the work herself!" he growled. "Ugh, that's it. Neither of you are taking the next trains to Brendam. You will get back to work and Rosie will take the trains to Brendam."

The twins were horrified. "But, sir!"

"No buts! I hope this will teach you two a lesson to work together ran than fighting with each other."

With that, the manager turned on his heel and stormed away to his office. Bill and Ben watched him leave before they turned their attention to Rosie who was hard at work shunting the clay trucks around and into place. The twins then looked to each with smug grins on their faces.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Ben?"

"I think I might be thinking what you're thinking, Bill."

"If the manager wants us to work together instead of fighting..."

"...then let's work together and make Rosie look bad."

"Ohohoho, delightfully devilish, Ben."

"Elementary, my dear, Bill."

As the twins puffed away, they put their plans into motion.

One of the most essential jobs at the Clay Pits is to fill trucks with china clay at the clay chute before they can be shunted away into sidings ready for trains to be taken away. Rosie had a row of trucks under the clay chute and was slowly filling up each truck one by one. The dock tank made sure to keep an eye on the trucks, so they wouldn't pull her forward under the chute. However, she didn't account for Bill. Bill snuck quietly up to Rosie and gave her an almighty bump.

"Ohhh!" Rosie cried, surging forward suddenly as china clay fell all over her boiler. Rosie spluttered and choked from the cloud of china clay dust in the air. "Ouch! Hey! Who did that?!"

"Oh, Rosie!" Bill laughed. "You're such a silly billy! You're supposed to put trucks under the chute, not yourself! AHAHAHA!"

Bill then scurried away howling.

Poor Rosie wanted to say something to the twin but had no idea which one who had bumped her. After she had been dusted down by her crew, Rosie was then tasked to shunt some empty trucks about into their sidings. She was hoping not to be caught in another trick, but before she knew it, Ben had shunted more empty trucks in front of her. Now, she was a middle engine. And it was no fun being a middle engine.

"Oh, bother!" Rosie grumbled.

"Little pink piggy in the middle!" Ben laughed before scurrying away just like Bill.

Rosie was furious. "What is going on with these two?! I'm supposed to be helping them and they're causing me nothing but trouble!"

"They like to play tricks, from what I heard," said her driver. "Especially on new engines. I'm afraid we're just going to have to bear and grin it, lass."

Rosie groaned as she pulled away with her trucks. "If I get out of this in one piece, I deserve an OBE from Her Majesty herself!"

Unfortunately for Rosie, the twins weren't done yet. They decided that if they weren't going to pull anymore trains up to Brendam, then Rosie would have to a bad journey of her own to Brendam. She would have to burst a piston in order to get there on time. So, when Rosie went to collect her train for the docks, she was shocked to see that no train was waiting for her at loaded sidings. She found Bill and Ben filling up with coal and was not pleased.

"Alright, you two. Where are my trucks?"

"Your trucks?" Ben asked innocently.

"What are you talking about, Rosie?" inquired Bill.

"I shunted a row of loaded trucks into the sidings ready for me to take to Brendam," Rosie said sternly. "And after I had my tanks refilled, I came back to find them not there. Now tell me where they are!"

"How should we know where your trucks are?" scoffed Ben.

"We've been here filling up on coal!" Bill snapped. "It's not our fault you lost your trucks. So, why don't you just go and find them yourself?"

"Ugh! I don't have time for this!" Rosie fumed. "I'm going to be late!"

Rosie puffed all over the Clay Pits, checking every nook and cranny she could to find her train. But as she was searching, the twins took her trucks out of their hiding spot and put them back in their original siding. They knew that Rosie was going to be late for sure now. By the time Rosie did return to the sidings, she was flabbergasted to see her trucks in the same siding where she had originally left them.

"That's it!" Rosie shouted, threatening to blow her safety valve. "How were they not there before and now they're back to where I shunted them?! Rrrgh! Those two have it out for me. I swear, the next time I see them, I'm going to bash their buffers so hard they'll wish they were never built!"

"You'll have to do that another time, lassie," said her fireman. "We have to get these trucks to Brendam or bust."

And bust, Rosie nearly did.

She hurried as fast as she could along the Drain with her china clay trucks rattling behind. By the time she did arrive at Brendam, Rosie was out of puff and her wheels ached. Even her fireman was worn out from all the shovelling of coal he had to do so fast. However, she was happy to know that she had made it just in time and decided to back down into the sheds where BoCo was already sitting there. Once Rosie had caught her breath, she introduced herself to the big green diesel and told them about Bill and Ben.

"Oh, those two have always been like that," BoCo said nonchalantly. "They may play pranks, but they're harmless."

"Harmless? Harmless?!" Rosie spluttered. "One of them biffed me under the china clay chute and the other made me into a middle engine! And to top it all off, I know they hid my trucks, so I would be late with my delivery tonight. How is that harmless?!"

BoCo was genuinely surprised. "Oh, my... I don't recall Bill and Ben being so devious with their pranks before. That is quite unlike them."

"Maybe so, but one way or another, I'm going to get back at them. And I'm going to get back at them good."

BoCo was concerned. "Come now, Rosie. Are things really going to be better if you cause trouble for Bill and Ben? Won't that cause trouble for the Clay Pits true?"

"Not with what I'm going to do. If those two have time to goof around with me as the butt of their pranks, then I'll be able to do the work without them. I'll do that and teach them a lesson about messing with the wrong engine."

All BoCo could do was sigh and hope for the best.

Early the next morning, Rosie put her plan into action as she returned to the Clay Pits and spoke to the manager. The manager agreed to teaching Bill and Ben a much-needed lesson but was concerned about having one engine doing the work alone. But after noticing how hard Rosie had worked yesterday, he relented and agreed to the plan.

So, Rosie set to work filling up multiple trucks with china clay. She also whispered something to the trucks which made them laugh and agreed to help her. Once she was ready, Rosie shunted two lines of trucks in front of the dozing Bill and Ben still in their shed. Suddenly, Rosie blew her whistle loudly as the twins woke up in shock.

"Ahh! What was that?!"

"My funnel's shaking!" they cried, scared out of their smokeboxes.

"Good morning, boys," Rosie cooed sweetly. "Have any pleasant dreams?"

"Rosie?" said Bill. "What are you doing?"

"And why do you have trucks in front of us?" asked Ben. "They're blocking our way out!"

Rosie sniggered. "Well, I thought that since you two like pranking me so much, that I would like to prank you. And I must admit, I'm quite liking it already. Your reactions are the best!"

The twins were beside themselves.

"This isn't funny, Rosie!"

"Yeah, the manager will hear about this! And he's not going to be happy!"

"Actually," said a familiar voice, "I think you'll find that I don't have a problem at all." The manager stepped out of Rosie's cab. "Bill and Ben, I am very disappointed in you both. Rosie is new to the railway and you have caused her nothing but grief. Your pranks have been more vicious and devious than usual, why is that?"

The twins felt very ashamed.

"We were angry that we weren't going to take any trains to Brendam, sir," Ben admitted.

"So, we took that anger out on Rosie since you asked her to take the trains," added Bill. "We're sorry, sir. We really mean it."

The manager sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Bill and Ben, it's bad enough that you were causing Rosie trouble, but the fact that it was caused over something so petty makes it worse. As further punishment, you will stay behind these trucks for even longer. You will only come out until Rosie and I think you should and when the both of you show how sorry you are."

"Yes, sir..." the twins mumbled.

As the manager left, Rosie looked to Bill and Ben.

"You know, you're not the first couple of engines to cause trouble for a newbie like me. When I first arrived in Britain from America, my siblings and I were forced to work alongside some 0-4-0 tank engines called B4s. They didn't like new engines and played all kinds of tricks on us at Southampton Docks since we were newer and stronger than them. So, a brother of mine and myself taught them a lesson by putting them behind loaded trucks so they couldn't move even if they were steamed up by their crew. They soon learned their lesson to not mess with me or my siblings ever again. So, what I'm trying to say is, you messed with the wrong engine and you're paying for it now."

With that, Rosie trundled away to start work while Bill and Ben were left to contemplate their predicament and mull over the story Rosie had told them. Now they realised that it had been a bad idea to mess with Rosie, out of all the engines they had played tricks on, they regretted playing them on her the most. It was boring inside their shed with nothing to do as they watched Rosie shunt about the Clay Pits enviously.

For the next few of hours, Rosie handled the work at the Clay Pits quite well. Since she was stronger than both Bill and Ben, she was able to do a lot of the shunting and organising by herself. While the manager was impressed, he was cautious and weary of when something could go wrong. Soon, it was midday and Rosie had been hard at work for five hours straight. She wasn't going to admit it, but she was starting to tire out as the manager noticed.

"Rosie," he said, walking over to the tank engine who had just shunted Derek's next train. "It's clear to me that you've been working yourself to the axle. I think that now you need help and we should let Bill and Ben out of the shed. I'm sure they've learnt their lesson after five hours."

Rosie frowned, being the stubborn engine that she was, glared at Bill and Ben in the shed.

"Are you sure, sir? Back at Southampton, my brother and I didn't let those two B4s out until the next morning. They certainly learnt their lesson then. But I'm not sure about these two. What if they start playing pranks on me again?"

"If they do, come to me and I will put them straight," the manager answered firmly. "I have had enough of their antics for quite a while now and I won't stand for it any longer. If you have taught me anything today, Rosie, it is that I need to be sterner with Bill and Ben when it comes to new engines. Now, come on. Let's get to the sheds."

So, Rosie and the manager made their way towards the sheds where Bill and Ben were sitting bored and glum in the sheds. They perked up suddenly when the manager walked over to them with hands on his hips.

"Bill and Ben," he began, "I take it you've learned your lesson?"

The twins were adamant.

"Yes, sir!"

"We have, sir!"

"We won't cause Rosie anymore trouble!"

"Twins' honour!"

"Alright, alright," the manager cut in. "Now, what do you have to say to Rosie?"

"We're sorry, Rosie," said Bill.

"Yeah, we're really sorry, Rosie," added Ben. "We never should have played tricks on an engine like you. It was uncalled for."

Rosie remained stone-faced for a moment before chuckling. "That's alright, you two. I accept your apology and I forgive you."

The twins were delighted and very relieved to be forgiven. From there, the twins took over most of the work at the Clay Pits while Rosie was able to take a well-deserved rest while filling up on water and coal. When Rosie did get back to work, the trio worked well together and quickly got all the trains organised for BoCo and Derek to make their deliveries. Once night had fallen, the three engines met each other in the shed once more.

"Sorry again about what we did," Ben told Rosie. "We were just being petty."

"It's alright, Ben," Rosie assured him. "It's water under the bridge now."

"We know, and thank you," Bill smiled. "But Rosie, if you don't mind me asking, why are you so serious with your work? I mean, you're even more serious than BoCo and that's saying something."

Rosie took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm all serious because everything was so hand's on deck at Southampton Docks. I've tried to tone it down, but whenever I'm working, with whatever kind of job, I've just had a natural instinct to finish it as efficiently as possible."

"Why was everything so hands on deck at Southampton Docks?" Ben asked.

"It's because my siblings and I were sent over from America to Britain during World War Two," Rosie explained. "It was a tumultuous time for everyone and we shunters were responsible for the organising of the goods and freight needs for our boys at the front lines. There was no room for slip ups as we dock tanks quickly learnt. I guess that during the whole period, the sense of urgency and to keep to time, never really left me. That's why I'm always so serious with my work. I guess it's just how I am."

"Well, at least no one can say anything bad about your work ethic," Bill chortled. "You really are a hard worker, Rosie."

"You really are!" agreed Ben. "You worked five hours straight without the two of us! Now that has to be saying something."

Rosie just chuckled. "Oh, it was nothing. It's just a knack."

A day later, Bill and Ben were sad to see Rosie leave and asked her to come and see her again. Of which, Rosie promised that she would. Later that day, Rosie had made her way to one the visiting sheds of Tidmouth and backed down in a berth next to Neville who looked very happy to see her.

"Hi, Neville!" Rosie said first. "How did your first day go?"

"Oh, well enough," Neville replied. "What about you, Rosie? How were the Clay Pits?"

"They were fine. I made friends with two tank engines named Bill and Ben. However, we did butt buffers at some point. But why don't you tell me about your first day?"

"Well, after you left The Fat Controller and me at Vicarstown I was..."

But I mustn't tell you anymore. Or I shall spoil the next story.

To be continued…


	22. Chapter 22

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 22

 **Neville's First Day**

"Rosie, I need you to head to the China Clay Pits beyond Edward's Branchline. The clay pits lie beyond the branchline's last station of Brendam. Once you are there, I need you to help Bill and Ben organise trucks about for important loads that I've ordered concerning the Kirk Ronan's branchline's rebuild. Can I trust you to help?"

Neville the Bulleid Q1 watched as the owner of the North-Western Railway spoke to his old friend. From what he had just heard, it sounded as though he and Rosie were going to be split up on this railway. The Q1 didn't like the sound of this, he didn't feel like facing unfamiliar territory alone.

Rosie was more than ready to help, especially when it came to be building her new home. "Yes, sir! I'll work harder than I've ever done before!"

"There's a good engine," The Fat Controller smiled. "Now, off you go. Bill and Ben are waiting for you, while BoCo and Derek need to make multiple shipments with the China Clay."

"Yes, sir!" Rosie whistled as she looked back to Neville. "See you soon, Neville! I hope you have fun with your own jobs."

"B-Bye, Rosie!" Neville stuttered, watching as his friend departed from the station.

As Rosie left Vicarstown Station, Neville felt very sad indeed. He didn't want Rosie to leave, he wanted to do jobs with her on their new home. Not to be split up to do jobs after just arriving from the Bluebell. Even as he watched Rosie puff away, Neville felt very, very lonely.

"Now then, Neville," The Fat Controller said, turning to the Q1 who was a little started but didn't show it. "I need you to help take ballast trains and trains of steel girders to Kellsthorpe Road. Should you need any help or advice, look for Emily, Donald and Douglas. Emily is a Stirling Single while Donald and Douglas are two Class 812s. They are helping with the rebuild as we speak. I trust that you contribute your part as a freight engine yourself?"

"Y-Yes, sir!" Neville stammered. "S-Sir, if I m-may ask a question?"

"Yes?"

"Where do I got to get the ballast and steel girders?"

The Fat Controller slapped his forehead while laughing. "Oh, silly me. I almost forgot. You'll need to head to Arlesburgh West to collect the ballast. And come back here to Vicarstown to collect the girders. I've organised to buy girders from a steelworks on the Mainland. An engine from The Other Railway will bring the loads here."

"Right. Shall I head to Arlesburgh now, sir?"

"Yes, thank you," replied The Fat Controller. "And once you bring the ballast to Kellsthorpe Road head to Vicarstown to collect your first load of girders. You'll swap between trains every time you bring a load to Kellsthorpe Road, understood?"

"Understood, sir," Neville said simply as he left Vicarstown Station.

A little while later, Henry and James were waiting to leave Knapford with their passenger trains. Great Northern had already left with the Wild Nor' Wester as Jinty backed down onto Platform 4 next to James. The two big engines were impatient to leave, but were kept back by their signals being red.

"What's going on?" asked Henry. "We should have been away by now."

"If this keeps up," said James, "I'm going to be late to Brendam! Then I'll get an earful from Edward."

"Pipe down you two," Jinty cut in. "It's not like you're late yet. Just be patient."

Henry and James just grunted in annoyance. Suddenly, the three engines heard an unfamiliar whistle in the distance. They were all stunned to see an oddly-shaped steam engine who looked like a black box on wheels. Neville pulled cautiously into the bay platform.

"E-Excuse me?" he murmured. "I need to get to Arlesburgh, how much further is it?"

"Just keep heading north," Jinty answered. "It's the last station of Duck's Branchline up ahead. It's a junction station so you should know when you see it."

"I see, thank you," Neville replied as he headed off once more up towards The Little Western.

Once Neville and had left, Henry and James began to gossip.

"What on earth was that?" asked Henry.

"It was a steam engine," James remarked. "But it was shaped so weirdly he looks like a diesel."

"Not the easiest engine on the eyes, is he?"

"I doubt even red paint would do anything to make him look nicer."

The two big engines laughed themselves silly at the expense of poor Neville.

Jinty wheeshed steam angrily. "Stop it, you two!" he growled. "The both of you are talking out of your tenders. You should show more respect to that engine. That was a Southern Railway Bulleid Q1. The strongest 0-6-0 tender engine design in Britain and are one of the best freight engines today. His class were nicknamed 'ugly ducklings'."

"Ugly duckling is right!" Henry scoffed.

"Shame about his actual design," sniggered James. "I hate to have a boiler like that."

Jinty then saw Henry's signal turn green. "Alright, that's enough gossiping from you two. Now hurry up and leave!"

And with that, Henry left with his local Mainline train while James followed shortly by with his own. Jinty then went to yard and continued his assigned shunting duties. As he shunted trucks about and hauled coaches into place, Jinty couldn't help but worry about this new Q1 engine. He hoped that Neville wouldn't suffer too much teasing from Henry and James.

In the meantime, Neville had finally arrived at Arlesburgh West, he was surprised to see very small engines working on their own small railway. He had no idea something like that was even possible. Duck, along with Alice and Mirabel, were also at the station.

"Hello there," Duck said kindly. "I'm Duck, welcome to my branchline. Who are you?"

"I-I'm Neville," Neville answered nervously. "I'm on trial here for the Kirk Ronan branchline that's being rebuilt. The Fat Controller wants me to collect a load of ballast."

"Well, you've come to the right place," Duck chuckled. "Just give Mike a moment and he'll have your trucks filled with ballast in no time."

"Mike? Who's Mike?" But before Neville could do anything, the ground suddenly shook as the sound rocks dropped onto something nearby. Poor Neville was so startled that he started having flashbacks. "AHHHHH! Ready the howitzer! Evacuate the area! The Gerries are coming! THE GERRIES ARE COMING! SOMEONE GET ME TO A TUNNEL!"

"Woah, woah, woah! Easy there, friend," Duck soothed, watching as Neville began to hyperventilate. "It's okay. There's no war going on. It's 1970, remember? There's no need for you to hide in a tunnel or for anyone to evacuate the area."

Neville took in multiple deep breaths before finally calming down. "Oh, my... Oh, dear... It happened again, didn't it?"

"Sweet Awdry!" exclaimed Mike ontop of the ballast chute. "What on earth happened to him? I was just putting the ballast from my wagons into his trucks, why did he freak out?"

"Go easy on him, Mike," Duck told the small red engine. "I think Neville here has PTSD."

"PTSD?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," Neville cut in. "It's a term for a series of actions for people who have been through traumatic events that have threatened their life or safety. In my case, I'm affected with the Shell Shock version."

"You were a freight engine during World War 2, weren't you?" said Duck. "You were built by Southern Railway in a time of austerity and war. How bad did it get for you?"

"Very, _very_ bad," Neville replied grimly. "I saw all kinds of things during the war. I remember running for my life multiple times away from Germany bombers, especially in Kent, Sussex and Surrey. I also saw so many of our soldiers who were brought back from the war, injured. The looks on their faces and the fear I saw... it's those kinds of things that stay with you forever and never truly leave."

The yard fell silent as Neville told his story. Poor Mike now felt bad for startling Neville with the ballast in the first place, triggering his PTSD.

Duck chose his next words carefully. "Neville, it's all okay now. There's no more World War and we're all safe on Sodor. If we had known about your PTSD, then I'm sure Mike would have warned you beforehand."

"Yeah! I would have!" Mike called to Neville. "At least, I'll make sure I do next time."

"I know, I know..." Neville sighed with another deep breath. "Sorry about my sudden outburst. I just really hate loud noises. Like I said, it's never really left me."

"That's more than okay," Duck assured him. "We completely understand. In any case, what do you think of the small engines' chute?"

Neville looked up to Mike on the ballast chute with his wagons. "I must say that I've never seen anything like it before. It looks very efficient, if that's how you transport ballast from railway to the other?"

Mike beamed proudly. "We might be small, but we're very efficient!"

Soon, Neville backed down in front of his trucks and was just about ready to leave with them until he noticed something.

"Umm, Duck?"

"Yes, Neville?"

"Are these trucks unfitted?"

"Yes, they are. Is there a problem?"

"Yeah... being the class I am, I'm not the best with unfitted trains."

"Really? Why not?"

"It's because of light construction of my tender braking system," Neville explained. "If I'm given a normal fitted train, I'm okay. But if I'm given an unfitted train... well, let's just say that I should be prepared for the worst."

"Hmm, then I guess you just need to take more care with the trucks, Neville," Duck advised. "Keep to an even pace and don't start too quickly after you make stops along the line."

"Understood," Neville replied, determined to do his best.

Unfortunately, as he set off, his driver had opened the regulator too quickly. The ballast trucks all snatched at each other as the brakevan was jerked forward all the way down the train. The poor guard fell over onto his back with a nasty thump in the brakevan.

"OI! Watch it!" the guard shouted to the crew once he had gotten back up. "Clumsy oafs!"

Neither Neville or his crew heard the guard, but Duck and his coaches had.

"Do you think he'll be alright, Alice?" asked Mirabel.

"I certainly hope so dear," Alice tittered. "I just hope those trucks don't give him anymore trouble."

"You and me both, Alice," agreed Duck. "Best of luck to you, Neville. Just make sure to be safe. I hope really hope those trucks don't give him too much trouble."

Fortunately, Neville, being a freight engine, knew exactly how to handle trucks. Especially ballast trucks. He kept an ear out for any silly nonsense and gave them a bump in case they got any ideas they shouldn't have. That showed the trucks to not mess with him.

They were able to brake easy enough at signals but became quite the challenge at Gordon's Hill. Neville's driver gave him enough steam as the Q1 charged up the hill. But this was a bad idea. As soon as Neville reached the crest and put on his brakes, the unfitted trucks all bumped into one another and then into Neville as the train began to pick up speed as they descended. Neville and the guard in the brakevan braked for all they were worth. Fortunately, they managed to stop at Maron just before a red signal.

James was nearby with a mixed-goods train of his own and thought what had happened to Neville was a great joke. "What's all this? Doesn't Frankenstein know how to handle trucks? And Jinty said that you were a freight engine. I'm mixed-traffic and I hate pulling trucks, but at least I know how to pull them."

"It's not my fault!" Neville admonished. "My tender isn't fit with the right kind of brakes for an unfitted train. It makes it harder for me to brake when I need to."

"Excuses, excuses," James scoffed as he pulled out of the station. "Now, I have real work to do. Goodbye, ugly duckling."

Neville gasped. "Ugly duckling? How did he know about that?"

Neville didn't have a chance to contemplate that however as his signal went green as he was ready to resume his trip to Kellsthorpe Road. The rest of his trip down the Mainline went without a hitch, all until he came towards Kellsthorpe Road itself. The driver had misjudged the distance necessary to brake in line with the station. He had left putting on the brakes too late as Neville drew closer to the station. As he braked, Neville felt the trucks bump against him once more as he screeched along the line.

Emily was nearby with the workmen and saw the whole thing. "Oh, my goodness! Slow down!" she cried, watching nervously as the whole train came to a screeching stop with only the brakevan in line with the station platform. "Phew. That was a close one."

Neville felt very embarrassed as he backed his train in line with the station platform once more. "I'm really sorry," he said to Emily. "I'm just not good with unfitted trains. I was pushed just recently by this train over that hill before Maron."

Emily smile sympathetically. "That's alright, I understand. At least you brought the next load of ballast here in one piece. The workmen and I were just about to run out of it. I'm Emily, who are you?"

"I'm Neville. One of the new engines who are going to be working on this branchline."

"Oh, that's marvellous!" Emily chorused. "I really hope you come to enjoy our railway. It really is a lovely place. And I'm sure you'll love working on the Kirk Ronan Branch once it is rebuilt."

Neville grinned at that. "I can't wait for that too. Although, I'm not sure about some of the engines here. Especially that red one I met at Maron."

"You mean James?" Emily inquired. "Take no notice of him, Neville. He's a just vain and arrogant engine. He almost always gets his comeuppance."

Neville rolled his eyes. "He reminds me of a N15 who used to make fun of me a lot back at Salisbury."

Emily frowned. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"At least it's just one rude engine." Neville then watched as Henry shot past with a fast train as the green engine called out rudely.

"Quack, quack, quack! Careful with those trucks, Charlie! And make sure not to spill any ballast either!"

"I know how to handle trucks, thank you!" Neville shot back before sighing heavily as he looked down at his buffers. "I stand corrected... That green engine made fun of me just like a U1 did too."

Emily in the meantime, was beside herself. "Henry too? This reminds me far too much of what had happened to Duck when he first arrived."

Neville was intrigued. "Duck? As in the Great Western pannier tank?"

"Yes," replied Emily. "You see, when Duck first came to our railway, he was made the station pilot of Knapford. Gordon, Henry and James tried to order Duck and about and said that he waddled because of how his side rods turn on his wheels. But that all came to an end when he and Percy blocked their path into the sheds and got them into trouble with The Fat Controller." Emily let out a groan. "I can't believe those two are up to their teasing ways again! I'm really sorry, Neville."

"It's not your fault, Emily," Neville insisted. "I just wish I knew some embarrassing things about those two."

Emily suddenly beamed as she got an idea. "Actually, James isn't very good at running up hills. Especially Gordon's Hill. And Henry once got himself shut up in the tunnel long ago. She then told Neville the stories of Henry and James. "Should they ever tease you again, bring up what I just told you."

Neville thanked Emily and made sure that he would.

For the rest of the day, Neville worked well as he pulled flatbeds of girders from Vicarstown and fitted ballast trains from Arlesburgh. Neville enjoyed his runs much better after his first runs and managed to avoid any more trouble with Henry and James.

The following morning, Neville had taken a load of ballast down to Emily and the workmen once again, everything was going smoothly until the station master came running over towards Neville.

"Henry is stuck in his tunnel with a passenger train. His crew has put out his fire, but we need you to take him to Crovan's Gate and drop him off at the Steamworks."

Neville was surprised. "Henry's back in his tunnel? Why would he be back in his tunnel? It's not raining."

"Oh, this is too rich!" Emily guffawed. "After you do rescue Henry, make sure you tell me what went wrong!"

Neville chuckled as he began to puff away. "Will do, Emily. I'll see you soon."

When Neville arrived at Henry's Tunnel, he found the big green engine fuming angrily inside of the tunnel. The same one where he had been shut up inside of by the first Fat Controller. Neville laughed as he backed down the failed Black-Five.

"What's this, Henry? Stuck in your tunnel again? But it's not raining. Don't tell me that you're afraid of the sunlight now?"

Henry was indignant. "If you must know, my pipes are clogged. And no, I am not afraid of the sunlight and it was just bad luck that I got stuck in my tunnel again."

"Ah, well. Looks like I need to save you and your passengers. Who would ever think of that? An ugly duckling saving one of the most versatile engines in the world? What say you Henry?" Henry said nothing. He remained respectfully silent. "Oh, well. We live and learn." Neville chuckled as his crew fixed the right head-code for the train and coupled him up to Henry.

With a toot of his whistle, Neville pulled Henry and his train in tow smoothly out of the tunnel. When they arrived at Crovan's Gate, Neville shunted Henry off the train and left him at the Steamworks to be repaired before continuing on with the train. When Neville arrived at Knapford, he was swarmed by Henry's grateful passengers who said that he was an enterprising engine. Neville was very grateful for the praise and practically beamed at the attention given to him.

After that, he made his way back to Vicarstown to collect another train of girders but was stopped at a red signal at Wellsworth. As he waited at Edward's Station, he watched as a long mixed-goods train backed down on the fast track next to him. Neville couldn't help but laugh when he saw James sidle back next to him.

"Dear, oh dear, James. Having trouble getting up Gordon's Hill? Then again, rumour has it that you're not very good up hills anyway."

James felt very embarrassed. "It's not fault I stalled on the hill. These blasted trucks held me back no reason at all! And how did you know about me and climbing hills?"

At this, Neville only laughed harder. "Oh, this is too rich! You can't climb the hill and you said that you could handle trucks. But you can't do that either!"

James was fuming. "Haha! Very funny! Are you going to help me or what?"

"Help you?" Neville scoffed. "Why should I? It's not my job to bank you up the hill. Besides, I've got my own work at Vicarstown."

"Please, Neville!" James begged. "I need to take these trucks to Barrow and I'll be very late by the time Edward or Derek get back here to bank me up the hill."

"Come on, old boy," said Neville's driver. "It wouldn't hurt to help James out with his train. Besides, it's always better to be the bigger person. Or in this case, the bigger engine."

Neville pondered this for a moment before looking to James. "Alright then, James. I'll help you up the hill."

James was relieved. "Oh, thank you, Neville! Thank you!"

So, Neville backed up behind James' train and whistled a signal that he was ready as James whistled back. Once he was given the all clear, Neville pushed suddenly with all of his might. His inside cylinders roared as steam flew out from his cylinder cocks. Poor James was unprepared and startled as Neville pushed him all the way out of the station and up Gordon's Hill. James was only able to catch his breath and take control of the train once he crested the hill and descended down the other side. He had been so shocked that he didn't even remember to whistle thank you to Neville. But the Q1 didn't mind, he was just glad that he showed Henry and James just what he could do.

When Neville finally arrived at Vicarstown, he found The Fat Controller standing on one of the platforms.

"Ah, Neville!" he said. "I've heard all about what you've done for Henry and James today. Congratulations are in order and I thank you humbly for your selfless acts."

Neville beamed proudly. "Not a problem, sir."

"I also heard how rude those two were to you and all I can say that is I am very sorry for their behaviour towards you. They should know better than to act that way, but I have been told that you set them both straight."

Neville couldn't help but chuckle. "All in a day's work, sir."

For the next couple of days, Neville worked without fuss and without hassle from any of the engines as he helped with the rebuild of the Kirk Ronan Branch. Donald and Douglas were grateful for his help and were very impressed at how well he handled any freight train he was given.

"Yon' Neville is an example to us all," the twins say. "And he certain gives us 0-6-0s a good reputation too."

And indeed, Neville did.

Later that night at Tidmouth Sheds, Henry and James were having a stern talking to thanks to Emily and Great Northern while Neville watched as Rosie backed down into the berth next to him after making her journey all the way from the clay pits.

"Hi, Neville!" Rosie said first. "How did your first day go?"

"Oh, well enough," Neville replied. "What about you, Rosie? How were the Clay Pits?"

"They were fine. I made friends with two tank engines named Bill and Ben. However, we did butt buffers at some point. But why don't you tell me about your first day?"

"Well, after you left The Fat Controller and me at Vicarstown I was asked to collect ballast and steel girder trains," Neville explained. "Eventually, I met Henry and James over there. They weren't nice at first, but I soon set them straight."

Rosie listened to her friend and found his story of the two engines a great joke. The two Southern engines thought that even though they hadn't been this railway for a week, they were going to love it here nonetheless.


	23. Chapter 23

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 23

 **Learning Curve**

Rosie and Neville the Southern Railway engines who had been brought to Sodor by The Fat Controller, were enjoying their new life on the NWR. Already the two friends had made their marks on the railway. The both of them showing up two engines and proving that they weren't pushovers. After their first few days separated, Rosie and Neville were put to work across the railway. Neville handled freight trains on the Mainline and branchlines both while Rosie was tasked with shunting in the yard as she also helped Jinty with station piloting at Knapford.

The Fat Controller watched the two engines working happily on the railway, and he was very proud and satisfied with his investments. He knew that they would be a credit to his railway and would do wonders for the Kirk Ronan Branch. He had also heard from the Steamworks that Molly's rebuild was nearing completion and would soon be let out for test runs. And with the notion of tests, he had something in mind for Rosie.

Rosie, being the capable tank engine that she was, would be expected to shunt in the yards along the branchline, take trucks filled with minerals and other goods wherever they needed to go. She would also help out with the passenger trains, which would mostly be slow trains given an engine of her speed and power. So, he decided to test Rosie with what she already knew and what else she needed to learn.

The Fat Controller made his over to Rosie once she had shunted Henry's into place at Knapford. "Ah, Rosie," he said. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course, sir," Rosie replied. "How can I help you, sir?"

"First off, how are you liking my railway so far?" he asked.

"Oh, I love it!" Rosie beamed happily. "There's always so much work to be done and I know that Neville is very happy too. All of the engines are nice once you get to the know, even Henry and James."

The Fat Controller knew what Rosie was talking about. Henry and James had been rather cruel and rude to Neville on his first day on the railway. And after the two big engines had needed help with one of their trains, The Fat Controller made his thoughts on the matter known to them. He would be very surprised should Henry and James do anything like that again to Neville. If they knew what was good for them, they would keep their mouths shut.

"I am most glad to hear that," The Fat Controller said to Rosie. "Now then, how are you finding your jobs so far on the railway, Rosie?"

"Well, the shunting is a breeze," Rosie chuckled. "As it is for any tank engine. But I also enjoy pulling trucks wherever they need going. Like I did back on the Southern Region."

The Fat Controller nodded thoughtfully. "And what about passengers?"

Rosie became nervous. "P-Passengers, sir? You mean shunting coaches here at Knapford, right?" she asked.

"No, I mean actual passenger trains," The Fat Controller answered. "Do you have any experience in that regard?"

Rosie looked to her buffers meekly. "N-No, sir."

The Fat Controller was surprised. "Really? Then what did you do on The Bluebell Railway?"

"I just shunted all the coaches about to in their stations," Rosie replied. "It was what I was most familiar and comfortable with. Besides, Mr. Holden had other engines to give visitors their rides, like Stepney, Bluebell and Earl of Berkeley. Even Neville took passenger trains, until we heard that we had been bought by you."

"I see..." The Fat Controller pondered. "Well then, Rosie. It seems to me that you have some learning to do before the Kirk Ronan Branch is opened. You must learn how to pull passenger trains."

"A-Are you sure shunting and pulling trucks won't be enough, sir?" Rosie gulped.

"No, I'm afraid not," The Fat Controller declared. "While I have organised a passenger engine to join you and Neville on the branchline, I will need your help regarding the mixed-traffic duties as well as shunting. Of which includes passenger duties. And since you don't have the experience, you will need to learn."

"Yes, sir," Rosie sighed, feeling very nervous indeed.

"Now, if you and your crew don't mind, we'd better get to The Shunting Yard. I have a certain engine to need to talk to."

"Of course, sir," Rosie agreed as The Fat Controller boarded her cab before setting off for the yard. They soon arrived and found Thomas talking to Annie and Clarabel before they left for their next train up the Ffarquhar Branch.

Thomas was the first to notice The Fat Controller as the latter strode up to him. "Oh! Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

"Good morning, Thomas," The Fat Controller replied. "Tell me, how have you been feeling lately?"

Thomas sighed softly. "To be honest, sir, I have been feeling a little worn out lately. But I have a branchline to run and I must soldier on."

"That's the spirit," smiled The Fat Controller. "However, it won't be necessary for you to work today. I've decided to give you the day off."

"The day off?" gasped Annie and Clarabel.

"Really, sir?" asked Thomas, excited.

"Yes," The Fat Controller nodded. "You've been working very hard lately, especially after you and Jinty made up. So, I would like for you to have a nice rest today while Rosie takes care of your trains."

Thomas looked to Rosie and smiled. "Very well, sir. Good luck with my trains, Rosie. Just remember to be gentle with Annie and Clarabel. I don't know what I'd do if anything would happen to them."

Rosie smiled nervously. "I'll certainly do my best."

With that, Thomas said goodbye to Annie and Clarabel before leaving for the sheds. Annie and Clarabel were sad to see Thomas leave, but they didn't have time to mull it over as The Fat Controller looked to them.

"Annie and Clarabel, I am counting on you to educate Rosie on how to pull passenger trains," he said. "It is necessary for her to learn before she takes up her duties on the Kirk Ronan Branchline."

"Yes, sir," said the coaches. "We shall do our best."

The Fat Controller tipped his hat to the coaches and walked away, satisfied. Rosie watched him leave before looking to Annie and Clarabel.

"So, uh... what's first?" she asked the coaches apprehensively.

"It's simple, dearie," Annie chuckled. "Couple up to us and head to Knapford. Make sure to pull into Platform 2. The Express will be at Platform 1."

"Oh. R-Right..." Rosie muttered as she crossed over the tracks and got coupled up to Annie and Clarabel before leaving for The Big Station.

When Rosie, Annie and Clarabel arrived, they saw that the station was packed with engines, coaches and passengers. Great Northern was at Platform 1 with the express, Emily and Henry were at the terminal platforms with their stopping trains and Oliver was at Platform 5 with his auto-train. Poor Rosie had never felt so nervous before in her life. She was used to being a station pilot at big stations and knew her role well enough. But as an engine taking a passenger train herself in the thick of it, she was starting to feel very out of her depth.

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear!" she fretted.

Annie saw how jittery Rosie was acting. "Rosie, it's okay. You just need to wait for the guard's whistle and then we can go."

They didn't have to wait long. The guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag.

"That must be us," Rosie's fireman said to the driver as Rosie began to move forward.

"Rosie, stop!" cried Clarabel. "That wasn't our guard, it was Great Northern's! The Express always leaves first!"

Rosie came to a sudden stop as her crew slammed on her brakes. Her driver glared at the fireman and gave him an earful as Thomas' passengers began to complain, some of them waving their fists. Rosie felt very embarrassed.

"Oh, no... This is not how I wanted my first run to start," she sighed.

"Chin up, my dear," comforted Great Northern as he began to pull out of the station. "We all make mistakes, I know I certainly did when I was young."

"But that must have been ages ago," Rosie mumbled as she backed down into the station as the rest of her passengers finally boarded the train.

This time around, Rosie's guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. Clarabel gave Rosie the all clear to the leave as the train departed on its actual time. As Rosie made her way up Thomas' Branchline, she was still worried but was reassured by her driver.

"Easy now, lass," he said. "There's no need to hurry. Just take it nice and slow. Our only way is forward and we're the ones with priority."

That made Rosie feel a little better. Her spirits lifted when she saw the scenery of Thomas' Branchline. Farmer Crowe's Farm and the old Windmill before Dryaw when she also met Harold in his field. After leaving Toryreck, she passed by Farmer McColl's and the Sport's Field Halt. She thought that Thomas was very lucky to have so many places across his branchline. Soon enough, they all arrived at Elsbridge, pulling into the branchline platform of the station. Passengers disembarked and boarded, but the guard hadn't blown his whistle or waved his flag. Rosie was starting to get impatient.

"Come on, come on!" she grumbled. "What's going on with that guard?"

"Calm down, Rosie," soothed Annie. "We have to wait. We always have a guaranteed connection with the Mainline trains here at Elsbridge."

"Annie's right," Clarabel agreed. "We're a guaranteed connection and we would cause confusion and delay if we left before the Mainline train arrived."

"Oh... Right..." Rosie acquiesced as she waited patiently while her driver and fireman filled up her water tanks for the rest of the journey.

Not long after, Bear pulled into the station with the Limited. The diesel tooted his horn in a friendly hello to Rosie and the coaches but was surprised to not see Thomas. But he soon understood the situation once it was explained to him and enjoyed a nice chat with the tank engine. Finally, Rosie left the station and made her way up the branchline once more.

The rest of the trip up to Ffarquhar Rosie found rather pleasant. She was greeted by Mrs. Kyndley waving to her from her front garden before passing through Hackenbeck tunnel and then met Terence ploughing in his field. She had heard of the tractor many times by the stories Thomas had told her. Finally, they reached Ffarquhar as the train was terminated. Rosie was thankful that her trip had been an uneventful one.

The station master then strode up to her. "Ah, Rosie. Once you shunt Annie and Clarabel away, I need you to shunt some trucks here in the yard before your next train down the Knapford. Mavis will also be down here with a load of trucks for Toby, you can shunt those into place too."

Rosie was delighted. "Finally! Something that I'm really good at!"

And she set to work.

She shunted Annie and Clarabel into their carriage sheds before setting to work. Rosie took to shunting like a duck to water as she began organising Percy's next branchline freight train. The two coaches watched the dock tank happily shunt about the yard.

"She really does seem to be enjoying herself, isn't she, Clarabel?" asked Annie.

"Of course, she is," Clarabel chuckled. "All tank engines like to shunt. Even our own Thomas."

"I know, but didn't you see how quick she was to shunt us away and get to work? A little too quickly for my liking. I feel as though she doesn't like us."

Clarabel sighed. "Annie, I'm sure that's not the case. Rosie just isn't used to pulling passengers. You saw her at Knapford and Elsbridge, she's inexperienced in that field."

"Which is exactly why The Fat Controller wants us to mentor her before she goes to the Kirk Ronan Branchline."

"Yes, I know. But Annie, please don't take Rosie's sudden enjoyment in shunting as a slight against you and me. She's only ever done shunting for most of her life and that might be the only thing she knows how to do just right. We can't take that away from her, now can we?"

Annie finally relented. "I suppose you're right... Let's just hope she doesn't stay agitated on our journeys for too long."

For the next hour, Annie and Clarabel watched Rosie shunt trucks up and down the yard wherever they were needed. Mavis soon arrived with trucks of stone from the quarry. She and Rosie got on well together as the latter organised the trucks into place before Toby arrived to take the trucks down to the harbour. Percy also arrived a little later to collect his own train and was grateful to Rosie for shunting them ready for him.

For Rosie though, it was all over too soon. Before she knew it, the station master called her and her crew off to collect Annie and Clarabel for their next journey back to Knapford. Rosie moped up towards the platform with Annie and Clarabel in tow. She wasn't looking forward to another trip with passengers, she thought that she going to mess up again.

Eventually, once the passengers were onboard, the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. The train was off. Thankfully, nothing went wrong after stopping at Hackenbeck and Rosie was starting to think that she was going to have a good run. But not for long.

Just before they reached the tunnel, Rosie's brakes suddenly slammed on tight. Rosie's wheels squealed across the track, as did Annie and Clarabel's. Finally, the driver managed to stop the train, grumbling under his breath.

"What happened?" asked the fireman.

"Don't know," the driver replied bluntly. "I didn't put the brakes on, that's for sure. Come on, lad. Let's get down and meet the guard."

And they did. The guard ran up to them from Clarabel and he looked rather urgent.

"A passenger pulled the emergency brake," he said.

"Better not have been some daft bird watcher," scoffed the driver.

"No, a lot worse, actually. One of the passengers is in labour and we need to get her to stat hospital!"

The fireman slapped his forehead. "Why on Earth would someone stop the train for a woman in labour? Now it'll take longer for us to get to the next station! They should have just waited and called for help at Maithwaite!"

"Maybe so," agreed the driver. "But there's no use crying over spilt milk now. We'll just have to Maithwaite as fast we can." The crew made their way back to Rosie's cab. "Come on, lass. We'd better hurry."

Rosie began to panic. "Oh, no. Oh, no! What do I do? What do I do?!"

"Rosie, calm down!" Annie exclaimed. "There's no need to panic. All you need to do is get to Maithwaite and the station master there will handle everything else."

"Rosie," Clarabel said gravely. "As a passenger engine, your top priority is always the passengers. Right now, a passenger is in need of your help."

Rosie took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. "Alright, let's go."

As the driver opened up the regulator, steam flew out of Rosie's funnel as the dock tank began puffing along, determined to get Maithwaite as the guard made a desperate call to Control via radio. In no time at all, they arrived at Maithwaite as the station master helped the woman and her husband through the station and into an ambulance which left for the closest hospital.

Rosie, her crew, the guard, Annie and Clarabel all stayed at the station just to make sure they would be alright, even if it meant being late.

By the time they arrived at Elsbridge, James was there to meet them with a local train from the Mainline. He was not pleased at all.

"And just where have you been?" he groused. "Thomas is never this late. How do you expect to help run a branchline when you can't keep to time? I also heard about what happened at Knapford too. What the Fat Controller sees in you, I don't."

"James!" shouted Annie. "That's just plain rude!"

"And we have a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why we're late!" added Clarabel as Rosie then told James what happened.

James fell eerily silent after that.

Afterwards, Rosie, Annie and Clarabel arrived back at Knapford once more. The passengers were proud of Rosie. They congratulated them, Rosie's crew and the guard for doing their best with the pregnant lady. Rosie felt very happy. She then told Thomas everything that had happened at the branchline sheds a little while later.

Thomas was very proud. "Well done, Rosie," he said. "I'm so proud of you. Now you understand that our passengers are always the top priority of our work. Even if it means running late too."

Rosie beamed. "Thank you, Thomas. I have Annie and Clarabel to grateful to though. They were the ones who taught me everything today. They showed me how to pull a passenger train, even though I was reluctant to do so."

Annie and Clarabel were honoured by words of gratitude from Rosie.

The Fat Controller had also heard about the ordeal and congratulated Rosie himself. For the next week, Rosie helped out on Thomas' Branchline. Shunting or pulling trucks as well as taking passenger trains along with Thomas. It was during that week that The Fat Controller approached Rosie at Knapford along with the former pregnant lady and her husband. In the lady's arms seemed to be a bundle of cloth. Rosie could only guess what that was.

"Ah, Rosie," said The Fat Controller. "I would like for you to meet Erina and her husband, Jonathan. They were the couple who were on your train the day Erina went into labour. They came here to speak to you."

"Thank you so much for helping us," said Jonathan. "Who knows what would have happened if we didn't get help at Maithwaite."

"Rosie," Erina began as she approached the dock tank and showed her the baby in her arms. "This is our daughter. We've decided named her Rosanna, after you. We wanted to so as a way to say thank you. And rest assured, when she isn't called Rosanna, she'll certainly be called Rosie."

Rosie the USA dock tank was so proud that she thought her boiler would burst.

From that day on, Rosie completely understood the importance of taking care of passengers and the maintaining of a branchline. Thomas, Annie and Clarabel had told her that people along the line she was going to work would rely on her to provide them with transport, food and other goods. It would be her responsibility to help look after them. Something of which, Rosie was now determined to do.


	24. Chapter 24

Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 24

 **Gordon's View**

Gordon the big, blue engine had been at the Steamworks for nearly two months. He had been out of service thanks to bursting one of his cylinders while pulling the Express. Gordon had felt humiliated by the accident but was grateful for the care and attention given to him by the workmen at the works. However, his accident might've been a blessing in disguise.

"It's a good thing you did break down, my friend," said Victor one morning. "The men discovered that some of your boiler tubes have rusted over too. It's a good thing we found them when we did. Who knows what would have happened if you didn't break down sooner?"

Gordon was relieved. "I'm pleased to hear that, Victor. Shall we be killing to birds with one stone then?"

"Indeed, my friend," Victor chuckled. "Although, you'll be out of service for a little longer. I hope you don't mind."

"No, no," Gordon replied. "It'll be nice to have a break, I just hope the others can handle the Express."

"You don't need to worry about that, Gordon. The Fat Controller has informed me that Great Northern will take over your express duties for you."

Gordon was delighted. "Trust my brother to pull the Express just like me!" he boasted. "He makes me feel so proud."

From there, Gordon enjoyed a lovely rest at the works as the men tended to him and had him repaired. One night, Gordon saw a familiar shape backing down into the works. He looked out of the works to see Great Northern talking to another engine. After the engine had been shunted back down into the works, Gordon finally realised what kind of engine was in front of him.

 _A Claud Hamilton?_ he thought, shocked. _But I thought all the Claud Hamiltons were scrapped. And... is that who I think it is?_

As Gordon looked at the black Claud Hamilton, he could hear her talking to someone. Or was it something? There weren't any other engines nearby, nor were there workmen. So, just who or what was this engine talking to?

"RC... Y-You're here..." the Claud Hamilton mumbled.

 _RC? Who's RC?_ Gordon pondered as he decided to call out to the engine. "I say, excuse me?" Gordon watched as the Claud Hamilton jumped with a fright. "Oh, my. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I-It's alright..." the Claud Hamilton murmured. "W-Who are you? You sound familiar."

"Why, I'm Gordon. The North-Western Railway's No. 4 and the premier express engine." He spied the scuffed number on the engine's cab. "62541? I don't remember any Claud Hamilton having that kind of number when I was young and green."

"I... wasn't always that number..." the Claud Hamilton sighed. "When I was first built, I was numbered 1850. And then during the LNER, I was 8850."

Gordon was bemused. "8850? Now why does that name ring a bell?" Gordon thought long and hard, thinking back to almost fifty years in the past. Finally, it clicked. "Molly... Molly? I-It can't be! I just can't! Molly, is that really you?!"

Molly was surprised by Gordon's outburst, but was thankful. "It is me! And you're Gordon! As in Gresley's A0! Oh, I just knew I remembered you from somewhere! How long has it been? Almost fifty years since I first met you at Top Shed."

Gordon was delighted. "I remember that day well. You had come from Stratford and you were helping me and my siblings with some express trains. I can still remember all those stories you told us about your early years in East Anglia. Actually, I must ask, how did you get here?"

Molly then explained The Fat Controller's plan to build a new branchline and how Great Northern had saved her scrap, so she could be the passenger engine of the branch. Gordon was amazed by Molly's bravery at Stratford before being rescued by Great Northern. Once again, Gordon felt nothing but utter pride for his younger brother. He truly was a credit to Gresley himself.

"Molly, if you don't mind me saying," Gordon began. "If I know anything once you are rebuilt and are in working order again, you'll run this new branchline like clockwork. I can already see it."

Molly, in return, gave Gordon a small, but thankful smile. "Coming from you, Gordon, that means so much. Thank you."

From there, the two old friends would continue to talk over the coming month or so. However, Gordon swore that he did hear Molly talking to someone else nearby. He felt like asking who she was talking to again, but he thought against it. Given what she must've gone through back at Stratford.

 _Survivor's guilt,_ he thought to himself. _I wouldn't be surprised if she really is plagued with it. Still, I never would have ever thought she would be one to afflicted with it. And it seems to affect her very badly. And just who is this RC she keeps talking to?_

In the meantime, Molly was once again talking to Royal Claud.

"Who did you say he was again?" Royal Claud asked.

"That's Gordon, Gresley's own A0," Molly replied. "He's an old friend of mine back on the LNER. It was marvellous when we worked together, but it was all over so soon. He had to leave for Sodor a couple of months after the LNER had officially formed."

"I see... So, that's why I don't recognise him. Despite him being a pacific. And how are you repairs going?"

"Oh, well enough. Victor says I'll be able to choose my livery soon. I'd like something new and fresh. A new kind of livery for a new start of life."

Royal Claud didn't seem to appreciate this. "And what happens if you do get your new livery and life? Does that mean you'll forget about me too?"

Molly was aghast. "RC! Don't speak like that! You know I'd never forget you!"

"Oh, really? Everyone else seemed to do. I became nothing after my accident at Hilgay. Not even the Royal family gave me any notice. And now when you start your new life, you'll forget about me too."

"No, RC, I won't!" Molly admonished. "How could I ever forget about you? You're my little cousin, and if anything, by me working means that I'm keeping your memory alive along with the rest of our late cousins and siblings."

"Keep telling yourself that, Molly," Royal Claud said gravely before disappearing once more. Leaving Molly alone to her thoughts while Gordon just watched her, filled with pity. He could only imagine what had happened to his old friend at Stratford on a scrap-line for all of those years.

Soon, a month had past and Gordon was ready for service once more. Molly had almost been rebuilt too. The workmen had been toiling overtime to get her ready as soon as possible for The Fat Controller and his new branchline. They had nearly rebuilt Molly in record time too. Then again, money was always a good motivator, and lately, the NWR had quite the amount of it.

Now, a grey undercoat was being applied to the D16 as Gordon had been steamed up and was completing some tests for Victor. A blue car pulled up in front of the Steamworks as The Fat Controller strode over to the engines.

"Ah, Gordon!" he said, smiling at the blue engine. "How are you feeling? Have your repairs done you good?"

"Oh, absolutely, sir!" Gordon beamed. "I feel as good as new. And I can't wait to get back to work."

"That's the spirit! Now, once you are ready, I want you to head to Barrow. Great Northern has just finished the first run with the Wild Nor' Wester and I want you to take the Express on its next journey back to Knapford. From there, you will take the express as usual."

Gordon was very pleased. "Thank you, sir. I simply cannot wait."

The Fat Controller tipped his hat Gordon before turning to Molly. "Molly. How goes your rebuild? I trust the men are treating you well?"

"Yes, sir," Molly replied with a grateful expression. "They've been ever so kind and thoughtful. I'm just surprised that they have me ready as I am now. I could've sworn that it would've taken me longer to have me rebuilt."

"Well, that's what our men here at the works can do," The Fat Controller chuckled. "When they really get down to it, there's nothing they can't do. Now then, since you'll be back in service shortly, there is something else to be done."

"Which is what, sir?" asked Molly, curious.

"Your new livery, of course," The Fat Controller laughed. "Now, tell me, would you like your GER royal blue or LNER apple-green? Great Northern told me how much you hate your British Railways livery, so I won't have you painted in that."

Molly couldn't help but smile at The Fat Controller. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that." While Molly was very tempted to go back to her old GER livery, she felt as though she wanted something different. A different kind of livery for a new lease of life on this railway. "Sir, do you happen to do yellow liveries on your railway?"

Gordon was stunned. "Yellow? You want a yellow livery?"

The Fat Controller was also taken aback. "Yes, Molly, why do you want a yellow livery of all things?"

Molly felt a little embarrassed. "I know it does sound a little petty, sir, but in all honesty, yellow is my favourite colour. I feel as though if I wore a new livery on your railway, it was signal a new beginning, a new life for me, after everything that has happened. I really hope you understand, sir."

The Fat Controller stood up straight with his arms behind his back and gave a small grin. "Molly, with reasoning such as what you've just given, how could I ever refuse? Very well. You will have your new yellow livery. You'll be given yellow with red boiler bands, how does that sound?"

"That sounds lovely, sir!" Molly exclaimed happily.

"I say that you'll make quite the sight," Gordon remarked. "I bet James might even be jealous too."

"I wouldn't be surprised," The Fat Controller agreed. "Now then, Gordon, please head to Barrow right away. The Wild Nor' Wester is waiting for you."

"Yes, sir!" Gordon cheered as he said goodbye to Molly and made his way out of the Steamworks and towards Barrow. When he did arrive, he backed down onto his coaches next to Great Northern with his own local train. "Look who's back, brother!"

"Ha-ha!" Great Northern laughed, happy to see Gordon once more. "Gordon! It is good to have you back, how was the works?"

"Caring as always, but I'm certainly glad to be back to work with the Express. I trust you took good care of it while I was away?"

"Perish the thought if I didn't," Great Northern chuckled. "Anyway, did you happen to meet Molly at the works too? You remember her, don't you?"

"I do indeed," Gordon replied. "She was at Top Shed with us in '22 and '23. Although, when I was with her at the works, something about her seemed... rather queer."

Great Northern gave a bemused look. "Queer? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that whenever she wasn't talking to me or anyone else at times, she was talking to someone else. I didn't get a proper name, but I heard her say 'RC' for some reason."

Great Northern pondered this. "RC? RC. RC... Now why does that ring a bell?"

Gordon was about to say something when his signal dropped as the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. With that, Gordon left Barrow proudly with his express once, whistling cheerfully to Great Northern as he left with his coaches rattling behind. For the next few days, Gordon made up for lost time with his express. The passengers were thrilled to have the big blue engine back in service, as were the coaches. They appreciated Great Northern and his treatment of them, but in their eyes, Gordon was always their engine.

However, as good as things were going for Gordon, he did have some minor issues.

One time, his firebox would be clogged at the big station as his fireman had to work hard to clean him out as quickly as possible. Some mornings he would steam properly, and he even suffered wheel slips out on the Mainline. Needless to say, Gordon was not happy with these inconveniences and made his intentions known to the others one morning. Most of the other engines ignored him, but James was fed up.

"Why are you complaining all the time?" the red engine grumbled.

"Because," Gordon sniffed. "I'm the premier express engine and I know everything, and I shall complain whenever I please. You're a just a small, red mogul with ideas above your station."

Jinty saw a chance to have a tease. "What are you talking about, Gordon? I can't see any."

"Any what?" Gordon grunted.

"Ideas above the station, silly. The sky is empty."

"Like your smokebox, Jinty!" laughed James.

Gordon was still upset. "One day, I'll show you just what a big engine can really do."

"So, what can a big engine really do?" teased Jinty.

"Not speak to silly tank engines for a start!" replied Gordon and he puffed importantly away.

When he arrived at the Big Station, he found The Fat Controller waiting for him.

"Gordon," said The Fat Controller, "once you've finished your first run with the express today, I need you to help bring down some empty coaching stock to the new station at Kirk Ronan. The way gang have completely rebuilt the branchline and we've had it reinforced. We'd like for you to test it out."

Gordon was appalled. "Why can't Henry do it? He likes idling in stations!"

"You will do as you are told," came the blunt reply.

So, Gordon did just that.

After finishing with the Express, Gordon was coupled up to the coaches bound for the new station on the rebuilt branchline. But as he went down the Mainline again, he was still grumbling. Finally, he arrived at the new Kirk Ronan Station. But as he pulled in, in front of him was a blank wall with huge buffers.

"What a boring view!" Gordon jeered. "Engines like me should have a panoramic view. Where I can see people and people can see me!"

Finally, Gordon was ready to leave as Rosie had come by to shunt the empty coaches away. Gordon was delighted to leave the station and head back out onto the Mainline. And despite his reservations with branchlines in general, he knew that Molly would indeed enjoy herself as the passenger engine of the branch.

A couple of days later, after Gordon's test had been a success, The Fat Controller organised Kirk Ronan Station's Grand O pening. Emily, Rosie and Neville would be at the celebration as Great Northern would also be joining them along with special visitors for the party. The Fat Controller himself would also arrive on board Gordon. Gordon was very pleased with this and set out at once as soon as The Fat Controller boarded his cab.

But as they approached Kirk Ronan, there was trouble. Neither the driver nor the fireman could apply his brakes. Something had jammed. The driver reduced steam as the fireman tried to put out his fire, but Gordon was still going too fast. Gordon whistled frantically as the other engines watched him race closer and closer towards the buffers in front of him.

"Look out!" Gordon cried, shutting his eyes tight as he burst right through the wall.

Gordon's leading wheels dangled over the city below him as his buffers were bent twisted. Broken bricks, dust and soot covered his boiler, running plate and smokebox. A piece of bunting was also draped around his smokebox. Gordon said he wanted a view, and ironically, this what he got.

Gordon then watched as his crew and The Fat Controller rose up to meet him on a scissor lift. All three men were battered and bruised from the collision. However, the fireman had taken the most damaged as his arm had been broken after squashing it against Gordon's cab side. His arm was now in a sling and Gordon felt most ashamed.

"Well, Gordon," said The Fat Controller. "I knew you wanted a panoramic view, but this is certainly not the way to achieve it."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir..." Gordon muttered.

"Oh, my..." Emily murmured that night to the other engines after Gordon had been taken back to the works as the debris had been cleared. "I heard about something like this happening in Paris in 1895. It was called the Montparnasse Derailment. The Granville-Paris Express was late and overran the buffer stop, just like Gordon. The locomotive ran right through the wall and fell onto the street on the Place de Rennes below. And because of the crash, a poor woman was killed by falling masonry."

Bear shivered. "Thank goodness nothing like that had happened to Gordon. I don't know what he'd do if he accidentally caused someone's death. I really hope he can recover from this."

"If anyone can," said Great Northern, "I'm sure Gordon can."

And indeed, the A1 was right.

A few weeks later, Kirk Ronan's official re-opening was ready. Once again, Emily, Rosie, Neville and Great Northern were all at the station for the celebrations. Then, Gordon arrived at the first platform along with a brake coach with several men inside. They were none other than The Fat, Thin and Small Controllers. This time, they arrived safely as the people on the station platforms cheered.

But that wasn't all. From the distance came an unfamiliar whistle as a 4-4-0 yellow tender engine pulled into the platform next to Gordon. It was none other than Molly, now in her new NWR yellow livery. She looked absolutely splendid and had two special guests behind her. They were Skarloey and Rheneas. The two old engines who had first arrived to Sodor at Kirk Ronan over a hundred years ago. Needless to say, the narrow-gauge engines were very happy.

"I still can't believe we've haven't been here in so long, Rheneas," said Skarloey.

"Oh, yes!" Rheneas agreed. "I still remember the stories of when you were left hanging over the dockside too!"

Skarloey couldn't help but chuckle. "I might've been a young engine then, but I remember that day as clear as crystal. Anyway, the station looks beautiful."

Gordon looked to Molly. "You look marvellous, my dear."

Molly giggled. "Thank you, Gordon. I feel marvellous too. This branchline and this station look lovely. I'm sure I'm going to enjoy it here."

"Thank you! Thank you, everyone!" The Fat Controller called as he stood in front of the hole made by Gordon, which had now been made into a panoramic view of the outline Gordon's smokebox and funnel. "Ladies and gentlemen, I heartily thank you all for attending the official re-opening of Kirk Ronan Station and the branchline. Next, I would like to thank Emily and her crew for rediscovering the line, without them, we wouldn't be here today. I would also like to thank Sir Peter Sam and Fergus Duncan for their contributions to the new line as they will undoubtedly profit from it in conjunction with the North-Western Railway."

He paused impressively as the crowd clapped.

"I would also like to welcome the three new engines of the branchline. Rosie who shall be taking care of shunting and mixed-traffic duties. Neville who shall be handling the freight work and Molly who shall the passenger duties. For the citizens of Kirk Ronan, I implore you to make them feel welcome in their new home and I hope you come to know them as family."

The crowd cheered once again as The Fat Controller looked to Gordon.

"Gordon, your panoramic view is here to stay. And I trust that all of you engines will see through it from the safety of your own rails."

Gordon and the other engines, heartily agreed.


End file.
